


Emergency of the Heart

by Six_Lily_Petals



Series: Friend Fiction Explosion [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Crane is a Physician's Assistant in a hospital in Fereldan.  He is assigned to assist the new Dr. Pavus who has recently arrived from Tevinter to round out his continuing education requirements.  Dorian realizes instantly that he's attracted to a man who seems oblivious to his attentions, making the hunt all the more intriguing.  How will their relationship develop as they learn more about each other and secrets are revealed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Real_Fenris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Real_Fenris/gifts).



> This is a companion piece to "Leaping from the Pages". Reading it is not necessary, but hilarious for background purposes.
> 
> This is a crack fic - you've been warned.

Dorian was less than pleased with his current situation.  He’d _volunteered_ for this less than desirable assignment in exchange for _consideration_ to be apart of the Immersion Program. 

In other words, he was being blackmailed. 

 _You’ll love it._   The Chief of Medicine in Quranis assured.  _Excellent opportunity to allow yourself the full cultural experience._

He needed that letter of recommendation.  Desperately enough that he would move to Fereldan for two months.  The deck was already stacked against him and he’d be damned to the Void if he’d consider asking his father for assistance.  If he had to slum it for a few months, so be it.

Dorian scoffed as he checked his visage once more in the sun visor’s mirror.  At least he took pride in his appearance, which was more than he could say about the drab city in which he now found himself.  As he waited at the traffic light, he checked his surroundings once more.  Office towers that housed barely known companies.  Another neon sign advertising quite possibly the one-hundredth pizza parlor in town.  Apparently the southern palate is extremely limited. 

The building on the corner street sent Dorian’s eyes rolling.  _Oh, lovely.  It’s a bordello!  Fasta Vass!_

He cringed, thankful the light changed, but it was too late.  The horrific image of a cat covered in white “cream” and licking at it, was quite possibly burned into his memory for all eternity.  He hoped that would be the last time that such an image was thrust upon him. The GPS dinged indicating he’d reached his destination, four blocks from the charming bordello known as “The Custard Slinger”.

At the hospital gate leading to employee parking, Dorian removed his sunglasses as he produced his badges.  The guard actually examined his credentials with the air of man ready to toss him out on his ass if an ‘i’ were missing a dot.  Dorian waited, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the guard’s mouth as he chewed on a toothpick thuggishly.  Examining the rest of his body, Dorian realized that ‘thugish’ fit the bill rather nicely.  He was muscular, tall, and sported a crooked nose that had been broken a few times.  The addition of visible scars sprinkled about labeled him clearly as someone not to be trifled with.

Finally, ‘Krem’, which Dorian assumed to be the lad’s name by his tag, let him pass and even vaguely gestured to his parking space.  His low laugh was not the least bit reassuring. 

Winding through the lot, Dorian cursed himself over and over, forcing himself to remember the reason he too on such a shitty assignment.  If he could find a way to align all his cards perfectly, then he’d be leagues away from this dog hovel of a town without a single glance over his shoulder.  The sooner he could put this place in his rearview mirror, the better. 

Just as Dorian suspected, Krem’s laugh was indeed ominous.  His precious baby barely fit into the space and was located on the perimeter of the fence line, next to a dumpster of all things.  When he stepped out of his vehicle, Dorian groaned at the splash that leapt up onto his trousers and even soaked his cervelt socks.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the water was tainted with whatever trash juice was leaking from the rusted out container. 

_Maker preserve me, they had better have assigned me someone competent or I may have to fling myself from a window to prevent any more ‘cultural experiences.’_

***

The hospital was surprisingly well equipped and actually met with Dorian’s satisfaction.  The students were typical little puppies afraid to do anything unless told and constantly begging for a treat or pat on the head.  The other expected behavior that he saw in the little tykes was how they were wholly infatuated with their teacher.  A common occurrence and one Dorian experienced throughout his career. 

However, all the interns were a flutter over Michael, the physician’s assistant who was assigned to him.  Typically, this would bother Dorian as he did adore being the center of attention, however, he enjoyed seeing the humility it brought out in Michael.  He doubted the poor sod even knew that he was the object of their adoration.  At first Dorian hardly considered the man.  He worked beneath him and was hardly more than an assistant really. 

It wasn’t until they began doing the rounds that he paid attention to Michael.  He was blonde with crystalline blue eyes…full lips.  Dorian watched Michael’s hands carefully as he assisted the interns.  Long fingers.  Delicate, firm grip. 

No ring. 

He relished whenever Michael bent over a table to point something out.  Even in baggy scrubs the man’s trim waist and firm buttocks weren’t hidden well.  Dorian fantasized about tearing the pastel colored atrocity off him like tissue paper. 

_Happy Satinalia to me._

Michael led much of the rounds, leaving Dorian’s mind to wonder at how Michael’s skin would feel under his hands.  How ticklish would he be if Dorian slipped his hands over his hips and slowly raked his finger up over his abs?  Competent and beautiful.  All day, Dorian caught the subtle instances of Michael’s broader knowledge.  When he corrected interns, he not only fixed them but was able to go deep as to _why_ which demonstrated he hadn’t simply memorized what was necessary to pass through school.  He cared about his job.  This endearing trait appealed to Dorian immensely.

_I wonder if he has any other hidden secrets I should know about._

Dorian was confused as to what he did previously to gain the Maker’s favor for such a boon. 

 

He finally had the chance to speak with Michael alone as they sat across from each other in the break room for lunch.  All of the interns had left for the cafeteria to take their meals.  Earlier, Dorian had purchased some mystery box lunch and as he fought with the packaging to open it, he noticed that Michael had nothing for himself.  “Are you not going to eat?”

“I don’t eat the food here honestly.”  Michael confessed as he began to prioritize his paperwork into different stacks.  Dorian cursed the man for not looking up, hiding those pretty eyes.  “And I don’t often pack one either.  I’m not much of a cook.  I think my highest skill level is capped at mac n’ cheese.”

A paper bag landed on the table between them, Dorian snapped his head up indignantly but bit back his quip when he saw that Krem was the one who brought it.  The burly guard pointedly looked from the stack of papers in front of Michael, then the lack of papers in front of Dorian.  He stared the healer down, his disdain palpable and bitter.  Dorian knew that Krem couldn’t do anything about it and honestly, it was none of his damn business how he chose to use the resources he was given. 

Ending the standoff, Krem turned to Michael who missed the entire exchange.  “Wife dropped this off, says it’s a new special and to let her know what you think.”

“Will do.  Thanks, Krem.”   

If Dorian thought Krem would leave quietly, he was sorely mistaken.  The guard jerked suddenly, drawing his fists back and puffing his chest out.  Instinctively, Dorian sprung to his feet.  At his reaction, Krem smirked and shoved Dorian by the shoulder roughly, but innocuously. 

“Not the softest Magister I’ve seen.”  The guard turned and waved to Michael who absent-mindedly returned it.  Krem pointed to Dorian before disappearing through the door.  “Try to not be too much an ass, alright big guy?”

Still a bit dumbfounded, Dorian took his seat again.  Michael was laughing quietly, his chest shaking as he tried to hold it in.  Dorian’s first reaction was to wrap his arms around him, to feel his happiness. 

_Hmmm, and perhaps so he could feel a bit of mine._

“So I take it that you and our friendly security guard are acquainted?”

Michael gave a simple nod as he began eating blindly, never tearing his eyes away from the papers before him.  “We live in the same building.  I actually knew his wife first.”

Dorian stirred his own lunch with a fork, then made the decision to abandon the thought of eating it.  He watched Michael multi-task, reading through reports while feeding himself the bare minimum necessary.  It was rather exhausting to see the energy he put into his work, and here it was only midway through the day.  Trying to keep up their dialogue Dorian stayed on topic.  “He seems to be a bit of a hostile fellow.”

With a snort that managed to sound elegant? Michael look up to meet Dorian’s eyes.  “I’m sure you’ve guessed at his country of origin.  His family has always been lower class and your last name does tend to carry a certain negative reputation.”

Dorian crossed his arms as he leaned back in the chair.  Not exactly a topic he wished to delve into on the first day, especially not with someone he was possibly, maybe interested in. 

“Would you like some?”  Michael’s question pulled Dorian from his brooding.  “I don’t think I’ll finish it.”

The carton slid before him had a logo imprinted on the lid.  “ _Kaffas!_ You get your meals from the bordello down the street?!”  He swiftly pushed back in disgust. 

Michael didn’t seem to take offense, or even truly notice that the food had been returned.  “Don’t care much for the idea of paying for sex do you?”

“Is it really too much to ask that two people actually connect on some intellectual level before they leap into bed together?” 

“Nope.”

Dorian considered his assistant’s distant manner for a moment.  Was he really being dismissed so readily?  “I’m considering driving about town naked, trapping unsuspecting lovers in the back of the car to avoid emptying my wallet to some whore.  Much more effective don’t you think?”

“You’d have better luck if you walked around.”  Michael kept reading, possibly not even realizing the answer he gave.  

Dorian rolled his head to look away from the insufferable man.  _What does he want me to do?  Beg?_

With a heavy sigh, Dorian tried again.  “Let me see if I have the right of it.  The security guard is married to a whore who fixes you food because you detest slaving over a meal?”

“Hmm?”  That finally got his attention.  “What?  No, she’s actually the Madame.  Krem used to be a bouncer there but switched jobs when they started getting serious.  Lily said it was unprofessional to have her husband be in her employ.”

“Fancy that, a Madame with a sense of professionalism.”  Dorian tapped on the table to ensure he had Michael’s attention.  “This Madame is aware that Krem is a…well.”

Michael’s hands fell to the table with a faint bang.  The challenging glare he leveled at the Tevinter was more frightening than Dorian could have possibly imagined from the easy going man.  He was intimidating, actually, and caused Dorian to be conflicted as to whether he should be turned on or frightened.

_I wonder how hard he could slam me against a wall…_

Dorian decided to keep his mouth shut, leading them to sit in silence for a quarter hour.  He was flustered that his usual charm was getting him nowhere.  Well, the unintentional insult to his friend by questioning his gender was probably a horrible way to start.  Surely if Michael wasn’t interested he’d simply say so.  He even began to feel the pinpricks of anger teasing him. 

_I swear by Andraste’s dimpled butt cheeks, if he hooks up with some damn intern, I swear I’ll set his curtains on fire._

Michael raked his hand through his hair, the way it cascaded back into place gave Dorian the impression it was as soft as silk.  Michael stretched in his chair, arching his back and with a relieved sigh, handed Dorian the completed papers.  “Here you are Dr. Pavus.  I’ve got about an hour left before my shift is up.  Need anything else?”

_What’s this?  No.  He needed more time.  He couldn’t have Michael going home and thinking ill of him.  That simply won’t do!_

“Actually I have something else for you.  Come with me.”

The batch of samples returning from the lab were supposed to be evaluated by himself and weren’t technically on a rush, but it was the only thing that sprang to mind when he searched for a delay tactic. 

“I need you to take care of these as I have had some urgent business come up.”  Dorian made a hasty retreat to his new office down the corridor. 

After slamming the door shut, he kicked one of his unpacked boxes.  That man was exasperating!  Perhaps he should consider another target, one of the interns.  There was always that cute blonde from some hovel called Honnleath.  Hmm, he’d have to use a gag on that one, poor stuttering bastard could barely get his name out under normal circumstances.  Perish the thought of what he’d do under stress.

No, it was Michael or nothing.  He held a spark of wit, a bit of dry humor to be sure, but Maker’s blood, those eyes.  Dorian could drink them in all day. 

He began to unpack some of his books, mostly medical references, as he tried to come up with a plan of attack once his delaying ruse was exhausted.

There was a faint knock.  “Enter.”

A short, older woman peeked her head inside.  “Dr. Pavus, there is man in the ER, he says Michael Crane is his doctor but I can’t find him.  Would you mind taking a look?” 

Sharing a patient?  Perhaps not the most romantic of beginnings but it could be a promising start.  “Lead the way my dear.”


	2. Does No One Around Here Knock?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MIchael gets mixed signals, Dorian gets mixed signals. No one knows what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hastily edited, sorry for typos!

Dorian strode confidently into the room of the afflicted.  If Michael could handle this man's ailment, surly it would present no challenge to him.

The patient had a complexion that women in his home country would have killed for.  Bronze skin with feather soft white hair.  He was handsome but, he wasn’t Michael.  As Dorian gazed at the barely conscious man it occurred to him that he wasn't in Tevinter any longer.  This is the South.  They were far more blasé about relationships than back home. In Tevinter, one had to be subtle about engaging in relationships and if his failure with Michael earlier was anything I go by, that tactic wouldn’t work here.

He'd have to change his angle of attack.  Dorian couldn't rely on setting down the lower class and offering subtle hints as was common in Tevinter.  No, it was now as obvious as the annoyingly bright neon sign glowing over The Custard Slinger, he’d have to be more forward.  Bold, he could certainly handle with flare, but could it be possible he might actually be himself with the man?  He reined in his expectations, that was unlikely.  He would be better off being happy with whatever Michael was willing to give.

The patient stirred with a pained grunt, pulling Dorian away from his plans of seduction.  
"Well. Let's get to it shall we?  What seems to the trouble?" 

Dorian knew he had perfect bedside manners.  If anything his dashing smile always instilled confidence in his patients that he was the supreme authority on their health and would dutifully tend to them.

In this instance, that was not the case.  This cretin actually snarled at the sight of him.  "You.  I know who you are, Pavus."

Dorian flicked his hand dismissively, yet he lamented once again his father’s public presence. "Honestly, how difficult is it to comprehend that I am in no way benefitting from my father's position in the Magisterium.  Quite the opposite actually.  May we please move ahead with the matter at hand, yes?"

The man scrambled to sit up right in the bed, trying to move further away.  The sudden movement drained all color from his face.  Dorian rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground.

Apparently it was a terrible faux pas in this damned country to preserve a man's lovely face since he instantly clawed his fingers into Dorian painfully.

"DONT YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU FILTHY MAGISTER!"

“For the last time, I am a healer and you will do as I say!”

“ **I’M NOT YOUR SLAVE, MAGISTER!   I’ll KILL you where you stand!** ” 

Giving up all hope of a polite rapport, Dorian grabbed the man by the wrists and flung him backward.   

 "Get off of me you foul smelling savage!"  He’d thought that would be the end of it, but he was soon shoved into the wall by someone else.  He turned just in time to see the patient clock Michael in the face. 

Dorian was in complete shock.  Being a Magister’s son, he’d been attacked at protests numerous times before, but never had anyone taken a hit for him.  He dove to Michael’s side but the PA’s angry shout pushed him away before his hand could.  “For shit’s sake Dr. Pavus, get the fuck out of here!”

Being treated like a nuisance by a subordinate was beyond the pale.  He did take his leave, but not before ensuring he had his say with Michael later.  "You will see me in my office when you're done."

Dorian marched the entire length of the hall then slammed the door behind him after he entered his office.  This whole venture was quickly becoming a nightmare.  None of the interns so much as batted an eye at him, he was assaulted by a patient, and to top it all off, he was treated no better than those damn interns by his own assistant. 

The man’s words echoed in his ears.  Magister, _hmf!_

Yes, his father was powerful and influential but not in the areas that appealed to Dorian.  The young successful healer was a stain to the family name in the eyes if his father, taking up charity work and civil rights issues was considered unbecoming of the heir to a noble family. 

Looking down at his desk, the top book in the unpacked stack was his most coveted tome, _Practical Applications of Ancient Elvhen Healing Practices_.  The work was genius and actually inspired Dorian to apply for the abroad program in the first place.  He'd been chasing the dream of working with Elvhen healers for years.  He ran a hand over the oft read book.

"Maybe I should take Felix's advice and change my name."  His old colleague had given him the book as a gift.  Dorian spoke to the cover.  "After all, as brilliant as you are, you hide behind a nom de plume."

He felt his phone vibrate.  Checking the screen, he saw the picture if a nug's ass.  He clicked 'ignore'.  The mighty Halward Pavus must have recently learned about his son’s current assignment and Dorian had no desire to hear his overly elitist father’s comments on the subject. 

 _I will not have him rule over me.  The name stays._  

Dorian reveled in his achievements all the more when he surmounted the prejudices of his name.  His father had once held high aspirations for his brilliant son, but none of those involved Dorian forging his own path.  Dorian lived for the day when he changed all that the Pavus name represented. 

Turning at the sound of an opening door, he welcomed Michael with mild mockery.  Honestly, were all southerners raised in barns?  "Please, do come in.  Excuse the mess, it has been a rather busy day."

Sardonically, Michael agreed with a nod.  "You asked for me?"

"Oh do try to relax.  One might mistake you for an inmate on death row."  Dorian waved Michael over to sit on the edge of his desk.  "Sit.  I can't have my favorite PA looking as though he won a bar fight."

Michael chuckled as he watched Dorian fish in a bag for some supplies.  "Your favorite?  I’m your only PA."

Dorian delicately cleaned the damaged area, applying pressure to stop the stubborn trickle of bleeding.  “I’m trying to say ‘thank you’.”

Suddenly aware of how close they were, Dorian boldly set his hand on Michael's shoulder under the guise of steading his patient.  All day his wicked eyes guessed at what truly lay beneath the gaudy clothing, but now Dorian knew. He could feel the firm threads of muscle under his fingers and pressed his luck even further.  "Hand me some more cotton would you?"

Michael's toned muscles rippled beautifully in Dorian's grip when he reached into the bag.  A brief image of these perfect shoulders hovering over his body sent hot blood rushing to his cock.  He imagined his hands snaking down to cup the blonde’s glutei maximi as Michael’s cock filled him to the _maximus_. 

Fortunately for Dorian, his healer robes were loose enough that Michael would never know the intense effect his body had over Dorian.  He lost himself in Michael's crystal blue eyes.  Flames, they were perfect.

He must have stared too long since Michael coughed and commented on the elvhen book sitting nearby.  "So, you're into Elvhen healing?  A bit off the beaten path for someone who's country deported all elves when slavery became illegal."

Dorian didn't miss the hint of distaste in the comment, but his tone was one of curiosity.  Hope flooded Dorian’s senses, perhaps all was not lost yet.  Here was his chance to make a new impression.  "I am not ignorant of the stereotype of my countrymen, but that does not mean that I hold the same convictions.”

Asserting his beliefs, his face came dangerously close to Michael’s.  His imagination ran wild at how little distance there was between them.  How easy it would be for him to lean forward and suckle on Michael’s neck.  “It's as the title proclaims, practical.  In many instances the methods of diagnosis are more efficient than lab tests and recovery methods are more cost efficient for the patient as well as having fewer risks of negative side effects than manufactured drugs."

Michael seemed stunned.  "So, you take it as a credible text?"

"Of course.  Unlike some of the serpent pits my father festers in, I actually am unopposed to venturing out to discover better applications of medicine.  There is already enough suffering in the world, no sense in making it worse by adhering to bad practices."

"That’s rather…noble of you."  Michael sounded contemplative, as if he wanted to ask something but decided against it.

“I would have said ‘magnificent’, but that will do for now.”  The tease earned Dorian a chuckle.  He wanted Michael to open up more, wanted to hear his thoughts.  He knew the man was smarter than he let on and all Dorian wanted to do was have the man open up and share that side of him.

He stepped back to look at Michael fully, a half grin forming as he tried to coax out more.  "You've read it too I take it?"  He wagged a teasing finger at the blonde.  "Don't think I didn't notice the way you conducted yourself today.  How you guided those little pups all day."

Michael smiled for Dorian for the first time all day.  Maker's blood, he wanted to suck on those supple lips and feel the moist heat of the PA’s breathless pants puffing on his face.  Suffering through restraint, Dorian went back to work fixing Michael's injury.  With their faces so close he could smell the peppermint on his breath as he spoke.  "I have a copy as well.  First edition, signed by the author."

Dorian swallowed, amazed at how this knowledge turned him on even more.  Is it possible this tempting Adonis could be any more perfect?

"Signed?  Impossible.  He never does signings.  No one even knows his real name.  I would know.  He is my greatest inspiration for choosing my particular field of medicine."

Dorian let his fingers linger on Michael's face with no purpose, his confidence rising when the man didn't pull away. 

"I met him during my time in Iceland.  Perhaps you could come by some day and I could..."

The office door swung open without warning.  Michael coughed to clear his throat and greeted the intruder.  "Mixie.  Um, what do you need?"

"Anders was wondering if he could take his friend back to the hotel.  He doesn't like hospitals, obviously."

Michael ran his hand through his hair as he walked to stand with her in the hall.  "Ah, actually, I'd feel better if he came back to our building so we could watch over him.  He needs to take it easy and I don't trust him to be sensible."

Back to our building?  Is that what was making him nervous?  Dorian scrutinized the entire interaction between Mixie and Michael.

"Alright.  I'm sure he'll agree.  I'll go ahead and order some dinner from Lilly.  Do you want the chicken or beef special?"

"Oh!  The chicken.  Thanks Darling." Michael gave her a peck on the forehead.  "I should be home in about an hour or so.  I'll come and disconnect Leto's IV now."  He turned to Dorian.  "That is, if we're done of course?"

Everything made sense now.  Michael brushed off the attention of others because he already had what he needed at home.  He had her.  "I suppose we are."

Left alone in his office Dorian decided to take refuge in unpacking his boxes.  Doubt crowded his thoughts like a mosh pit, screaming in the quiet of his mind.

_These people will always hate you._

_You will be rejected by the Elvhen_

_That internship will never go to you._

“You can’t even land a lover.”

He’d said it out loud. 

Dorian laughed to himself and forced a smile as he retrieved his phone to select a playlist that would drown out the crushing pressure of reality.

***

Shit day.

Shit boss.

Well, not really.  Yes?  Fuck.

Michael left work stewing in his thoughts.  He kicked at pebbles on the sidewalk, hardly looking at where he was going, his subconscious steering him home.  Thinking about his time with Dorian in his office confused him.  He thought they were getting somewhere, maybe, but then the Vint brushed him aside.  First hot, then cold.  Perhaps he was simply imagining all of it.

He’d gotten the keys in his door when he remembered that Mixie had food waiting for him.  Turning around, he trudged down the hall to grab his dinner. 

The food smelled wonderful but it wasn’t enough to put him in a better mood.  Instead, he only offered the bare minimum of responses, blaming a long day at work.  After he took the over laden dishes from Mixie, he surreptitiously snagged her bottle of gin.  The weight of the bottle was comforting.  There would be plenty to help him erode the rough edges of the day.  

In the darkness of his apartment, he picked at his dinner on the kitchen counter before pouring a pint glass of gin.  The ice and tonic were an afterthought. 

Michael walked out onto his balcony that joined his living area.  The city twilight glowed a dull orange below and the normal hustle of the city hummed in the background.  It wasn’t the same as the wilds of Iceland, but it was better than the deafening silence of his apartment. 

_He’d read the book._

Thinking back on the day, Michael should have noticed it earlier.  The few times when Michael wasn’t leading the instructions, Dorian had inserted his perspective which had been sprinkled with bits and pieces from the book.  He felt like an ass.  He was so wrapped up in what he thought of the man that he hadn’t taken the time to actually get to know him. 

Michael sat on the outdoor couch as he replayed the moment in Dorian’s office.  He could have lived in that moment forever.  The way that Dorian touched him made his whole body shiver.  The man had a husky, velvety voice that would seduce the Divine into a public orgy. 

Things had seemed to be heating up between them, but then, when he announced he was leaving for the day, Dorian pulled away and didn’t so much as say ‘good bye’.  In the back of his heart, he’d actually hoped to have an opening to invite the Vint back to his place. 

Another deep draw and he noticed that the glass was already half empty.

He needed a distraction, an outlet.  The image of Mixie and her two new lovers danced to the forefront of his mind.  Disgusted at their arrangement and at his own jealously, he was at least thankful that it provided him with an idea. 

He rose to refill his glass and brought his laptop back to the balcony.  It was a new device and he was miffed that to discover that it lacked many of basic programs, such as word processing.  Too drunk to wait for a download, he opened the first thing that he knew would allow him to jot down his thoughts. 

With his glass providing courage and lack of filter, he wrote stream of consciousness.  Everything that had built up over the course of the day spilling out onto the screen.  Each sentence bolstered his courage to go into further detail.  Soon he was pouring himself into his writing, holding nothing back.

Michael tilted his glass up once more and was a bit disappointed it was empty.  Looking back at his computer, he decided that it must be a sign he should delete this damn draft email before he did something stupid.  A few clicks and it was gone forever.  He shut the lid and set the computer off to the side before he slouched further into the couch, ready to close his eyes and pretend that the day hadn’t happened as he remembered it, but rather as he had re-written it.

***

Dorian had been hurt before, he could survive another rejection, even if it was one that came before anything started.  There was always that cute blonde among the interns, Cullen was it?  Hm, he’d have to use a gag on that one, poor stuttering bastard could barely get his name out on a regular day. Dorian shuttered at the thought of his bedroom talk.  Graduated from the Univerisity of Devine Galatea.  Ick.  Dorian would be lucky if the sheltered prude was able to find his prick, much less use it.

A notification ding interrupted Dorian’s unpacking.  Glancing out the widow he was surprised to see that night had fallen despite the fact that he still had about half of his boxes left to go.  Crossing the office, he picked up his phone to see what was so important that he was to be interrupted at this hour.  The first assumption guessed it was spam.  The truth shocked him harder than a bucket of ice water. 

Four times.  Reading and re-reading the email from Michael four times didn’t change the words.  It was all there.  No room for niceties, especially considering the blunt language he used.  This was the last straw.  He’d tried to be amenable, he’d tried to allow some time for adjustment but he’d reached his tipping point. 

Previously, Dorian had no qualms about bending the rules.  Now, he was outright breaking them as he used a hospital computer to print off the offending email and looking up the address that Mixie gave when she admitted her friend earlier. 

Dorian had already changed into fresh robes and stormed out of the hospital as soon as his phone was able to give him directions.  Surprised at how close the destination was, he decided to walk.  He thought he’d composed the perfect argument by the time he reached the apartment door, however, his words abandoned him as soon as he was through the apartment doorway.  Instead of the well-rehearsed speech he’d practiced on the way over, he ended up sounding like a madman. 

"Where is he?!”  He shook the sheet of paper wildly.  "Where's Michael?  I will not stand by and let this go unanswered!"

The white haired man snapped at him from the living room.  "Get out of here, Magister!"

"Dammit!  Everyone just calm down!"  The tall blonde tried to take control of the situation.

"Doctor, Michael isn't here.  Surely this is something that can wait for tomorrow.  You already had him working past his shift today.  What more do you want from the poor man?"  Mixie crossed her arms and leveled an angry glare at him.  It didn’t do the lady any favors, it wreaked havoc on her lovely features.  Pity.  "You're not welcome here.  Get out of my apartment before I have you thrown out!"

"I'm not going anywhere until I am satisfied!  He has no right!  It is beyond decorum to conduct himself in such a manner and I will not tolerate another slight in this Void forsaken country!"  Dorian tried to close in and tower over Mixie but the blonde intercepted him.  How dare he?  How dare all of them!  Michael was his to do with as he pleased!  Dorian didn’t give two shits if this woman were his wife or girlfriend.  She would not bar him from seeing Michael. 

Dorian’s rage boiled over. " **Where is he?!** "

"He isn't here.  I think it's time for you to leave."  It was at this moment that Dorian noticed that the man was taller than he and was advancing quite unfriendly like toward him.

Dorian backed away but refused to give up.  "Absolutely not!"  He pointed an accusatory finger to each person in the room.  "One of you knows where he is and I'm not leaving until he answers for this...this disrespectful charade!"

“He’s not here!”  Mixie screamed.

Without warning Dorian found himself flying through the air and landing on the rock hard shoulders of a giant.  A deep, gruff voice warned him to avoid any further attempts of harassment.  “I think you should listen to the lady big guy."

"Thank you Bull.  I hope he doesn't give you any more trouble.”  The woman’s shaky voice had Dorian reconsidering his approach.  He had not considered how intimidating his appearance would have seemed. 

_I hate this fucking country._

A large hand palmed his ass.  Taking into account how easily the man had thrown him over his shoulder, Dorian decided not to offer a retort.  "He looks smart, so that's possible, but I wouldn't mind tousling with him a bit.  Just give me a reason Mr. Fancy Robes."

"Thank you Bull."

"My pleasure."

The hulking man lumbered down the hallway and didn’t speak another word, even at Dorian’s probing. 

“I can walk you know.”

Dorian resigned himself to being thrown out of the building, at least his car wasn’t far.  He gave a small grunt of disapproval when Bull stood too close to the back wall of the elevator, nearly crushing his head against it.  The irritation vanished in a flash when he felt the elevator going up.

“Where are we going?  This isn’t the way out.”

Bull answered with a level, uncaring tone.  “It isn’t.  We’re going to the roof.”

Now Dorian squirmed in earnest.  He didn’t know where he could have gone once he reached the floor but he wasn’t too keen on being thrown off the roof either.  “Put me down!  Let me out of here!”

He might as well have been trying to push back the tide of the ocean.  Bull was a beast of a man and Dorian offered no challenge. 

With a ding, the elevator stopped and opened to a small foyer with only one door.  Bull pressed a sequence of buttons to gain entrance.  Seeing the world in reverse, he had no concept of the space until Bull set him down in a chair.  The apartment was much larger than Mixie’s and was actually on scale with something his father would approve of. However, the décor was too southern and too plain for any Tevinter’s taste. 

Across from him sat Krem and a woman he could only assume was his wife, judging by how close they sat together and seeing Krem’s arm draped over her shoulders. 

Dorian straightened his back and squared his shoulders in his seat as he crossed his legs.  He knew that he easily exuded confidence and he was determined to regain some footing in this bizarre situation. 

“Madame Lily I presume?  I must congratulate you on your unique method of invitation.  I’m certain not everyone as their own personal lackey to drag helpless men back to your abode.”

“Told you he was mouthy.”  Krem commented as if Dorian weren’t there, which was fine by him.  At least he was honest enough to not do it behind Dorian’s back. 

“Bull.”  At his name, the bouncer approached her and handed off the printed sheet of paper that he somehow pilfered from Dorian’s person. 

He’d wanted to yell at her, leap up and snatch it from her fingers, but yelling hadn’t gotten him far earlier, so Dorian remained calm and unapologetic about the note’s contents.  He watched her eyes read each line, absorbing each word, continuing after he was certain she was aware of the gist of the contents.  Realizing she intended to read every damning word, he took in his surroundings, avoiding the other men’s icy glare.  There were other hallways that disappeared beyond this room, a massive balcony that was the actual roof.  It dawned on him that the entire floor must be allocated for this one dwelling.

“You own this building don’t you?”  Dorian asked the obvious, to which no one responded.

“Bull, thank you for helping Mixie.  I’ll take care of the Vint.” 

“Sure thing Boss.”  Bull began to make his way to the door.  “Krem, try not to kill ‘em aight?”

Lily locked her eyes on Dorian and didn’t say a word until she heard the door close behind Bull.  She gestured with the paper.  “Who wrote this?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.  You’ll return my property and permit me to leave this backwoods dog house immediately.”

Krem leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees.  His eyes darkened as he spoke.  “You’re in no position to make demands.”

“I know the email address, but I want to be sure.”  Lily stood to take up a spot behind Dorian.  He couldn’t see her unless he twisted completely in the chair awkwardly. 

Ill at ease looking at Krem, he picked a blank spot beyond the man.  “If you must know, Michael wrote it.”

He heard her take three more steps behind him.  The chair rocked slightly as she leaned over the back to whisper in his ear.  He recognized the words, had burned them into his memory for what they did to him.  To hear them coming from the lusty mouth of a professional had his prick demanding attention.

“You push me down on the desk and rip my pants off in one majestic swipe.  Freeing your rock hard cock from beneath your robes, you tease my asshole with it.”  Dorian didn’t know where to look and found himself staring at Krem.  The man relaxed into the couch lazily.  Absorbing the whole scene, a knowing smirk spread over his face.  He was well aware of the effect the modern day Circe’s voice had. 

“Taking my erection in your hand, you slowly press into me.  Thick, wet.  I want all of it buried deep within me.  Wrapping my legs around you, I encourage your slow thrusts to come faster, harder.  I grip the edge of the desk to keep you from fucking me off of it and onto the floor.  Your pace becomes relentless…”  Lily gave an amused hum.  “Shall I go on?”

“I-I know what it says.”  Dorian crossed his arms and readjusted his legs.  That was a mistake.  The new friction rubbed beautifully against his cock which had enjoyed her rendition of the email.  “Surely you can understand why I am disturbed by such erotica.”

A melodic laugh tumbled from Lily as she walked back to her spot next to Krem.  Her hands wandered to his thighs, offering a warm caress.  Clearly Dorian wasn’t the only one affected by the overt smut.  “It know Tevinter tastes, Dr. Pavus.”

Dorian swallowed hard.  That was one warning he headed when leaving his homeland.  As liberal as southerners were about most things, somethings simply weren’t done.

“This is possibly the tamest thing you’ve ever read.”

Taking a deep breath, he let his impatience at her line of questioning show.  “I have no desire to be taunted by attached men.”

Krem and Lily turned to each other suddenly.  There was something Dorian was missing.  “Attached?  Michael isn’t seeing anyone.”

“But that woman from earlier, Mixie she…”

“She is very handsy but harmless.”  Lily looked at the paper once more before she decided to cross the room and plucked something from a desk drawer.  She held the small object up to her face, considering it before she turned back to Dorian.  “Michael wrote that for you.  What do think of it?”

This entire day felt like an out of body experience.  Since he first set foot in that Maker forsaken puddle, he had the impression that he was experiencing a warped version of reality.  Even the Fade couldn’t be this fucked up.  Tell her the truth?  At this point, what did he care?  Fuck it.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I think.  I think he’s brilliant, humble, sensible.”  Lily smiled at him and he flung the words at her as a challenge.  “And I’d let him fuck me until my legs didn’t work for a week.”

She sighed a single laugh then held out her closed fist toward him.  Dorian reached his hand out and just like a scene from a fantasy novel where the hero is given a mysterious relic, she dropped a single key into the palm of his hand.  A short scarlet ribbon looped through the head and was tied into a neat bow.

“Then I suggest you go to him.”


	3. Smut Cookies! (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian bursts into the right apartment this time and makes an astounding discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT!

The key slipped in and Dorian was surprised when the tumbler clinked and unlocked the door.  The way his day had been going, he half expected he had been directed toward an untimely trap.  He entered slowly, thankful that the apartment was dark and quiet.  The layout was similar to Mixie’s, but the décor was far more Spartan than that of the feisty, eccentric neighbor.  No lights were left on but the apartment was lit by strategically placed candles.  Candles, although a fabulous mood setter, seemed a bit odd.  The collection of multicolored drippings at the bases indicated that this was Michael’s preferred light source.  Some were held by simple candlesticks; larger ones gave the space a warm orange or red glow from the tinted hurricane glass that protected the flame from drafts.  The effect gave the space a welcoming ‘other world’ feel.  The nearest one that Dorian inspected was on the kitchen bar.  The glass was beautiful and undoubtedly hand blown.  Next to it was a plate of sparkling cookies that reminded Dorian he hadn’t eaten yet.  Helping himself to one and taking a few more in hand, he explored the rest of the apartment.

The living area had a wall lined with bookshelves, every inch was crammed with books.  When he walked closer to read some of the titles, he tripped over a stack of books on the floor, knocking some down before he caught himself by landing his hand on another stack.  Now that his eyes had adjusted to the low light better, he could make out that there were books everywhere.  On side tables, the coffee table, under tables.  Each title he read created little bubbles of excitement in his chest.  Everything was just his flavor of genre.  Medical texts, fictions, philosophy, all of them as if they were handpicked by Dorian himself.  

Except this one.  He scoffed as he pulled out one that was wedged tightly on the shelf.  It was a medical text published by the Chantry.  Trite propaganda that ignored sound practices and science.   _A Modern Treatise on Balancing the Humors_ proclaimed that purity of spirit is the only method of healing and that when one falls ill, it’s due in to some sin that person has made in the eyes of the Maker.  His sneer soon turned to burst of laughter which he caught with his hand.  The mockery of a medical tome was riddled with Michael’s handwriting pointing out inaccuracies, blatant lies, and filled with his personal comments that were sarcastically condescending and fucking hilarious.  Most of the corrections had annotations citing a source material contradicting the idiocy someone dared pen to paper.  This was further proof of Dorian’s assumption that his dear assistant was indeed brighter than he originally gave him credit.  Dorian made a mental note to return to the tome later, confident he would enjoy this version.  He returned the book to its home and scanned the room once more.  If he found this one treasure, surely there were more. 

Stepping lightly through the dwelling, still unsure where Michael was, Dorian wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to learn more about his handsome companion.  On a side table, there was a collection of Elvhen art such as raku pottery, mercury glass, and lava rocks.  He recalled that Michael mentioned spending time in Iceland, but hadn’t considered what bits of culture he would have been permitted to bring back, if any.  It was his understanding that the Elvhen Council was rather strict about such things. 

The bits and bobs were fascinating to be sure, but a large poster sized piece of framed art over the table struck him breathless.  Dorian reached his hand out and ran his fingers lightly over the glass, tracing the lines of the masterpiece.  The shimmer of aluminum left no doubt that it was an original lithograph plate, specifically the one used for one of the reference art pieces in _Practical Applications of Ancient Elvhen Healing Practices._     

“That bloody son of a bitch.”  Dorian whispered under his breath, angry that Michael hadn’t mentioned that he had such a priceless piece of art simply hanging in his apartment as if it were no more special than a mass produced photograph.

Backing up and searching the walls again, he noticed that there were more.  In a trance, Dorian followed the trail of art from the living room down a hall and into the bedroom, all the while strangely feeling himself becoming aroused at discovering such a unique side to Michael.  He was, however, a bit distracted by the fact he was still hungry.  He finished the last of the cookies before entering the bedroom.

Similar to the rest of the apartment, the bedroom was minimal.  A bed, nightstand, small dresser, but the artwork in here was different.  Although the lamp on the nightstand had a low watt bulb, it was still brighter than the hallway.  Dorian looked at anime drawings, one he knew to be Saiyuki, that hung on the wall, admiring the composition until he was drawn to the artist’s signature.  The scribble was legible in this light and Dorian nearly choked on thin air.  He scrambled to the hallway to snatch up one of the lithographs from the wall and brought it near the low light lamp.  There it was.  The signature of the artist.

Michael Crane.

Dorian’s knees felt weak as his stomach bottomed out.  No wonder he had a signed copy, the bloody bastard did the art for the whole damn book!   

“Shit!” 

Dorian almost dropped the irreplaceable artwork when he heard something fall and a curse from the bathroom. 

He’d been so wrapped up in the remarkable art find and astonishing reveal, that he had completely tuned out the running shower.  The door was ajar and he simply couldn’t help himself.  Quietly stepping closer, he had half his face gazing through the crack.  Beyond, in the bright light, he could clearly see a wet, sudsy man bent over in the shower.  The clear glass door hid nothing of Michael’s well-toned body.  Dorian wet his lips as he palmed himself through his robes.  A few more moments of attention and his semi would be a full blown hard on.  He admired the water dripping down over the PA’s skin as he slowly uncurled his spine from picking something up.  Muscles rippled up his back as Michael stood straight and when he idly rolled his shoulders, clumps of suds surfing over the waves of his biceps, Dorian moaned aloud.

Michael turned sharply at the noise. 

Dorian panicked.

***

Sirens from somewhere in the city startled Michael from his deep alcohol sleep.  He had no clue how long he’d been outside.  Taking a moment to remember why he was out on the balcony, he mentally chided himself as he collected his laptop to go inside.  The last thing he needed was to have the damn thing ruined by the morning dew.  He left the hum of the city behind as he trod toward the bedroom. 

A quick shower.  Bed.  Sleep half of tomorrow.  His list of tasks was short, but important.  Going through the motions, he undressed and walked into the glass stall, instantly relieved as his skin was bombarded by hot water.  He had needed this all damn day.  The scent of soap eased his mood while he scrubbed his body, his mind beginning to wonder, recalling the story he wrote.

_You take command of my body, shoving me into position.  Bent over your desk, you hold my head down firmly against the wood while your girth pushes my body to its limits.  I cry out but you bite my ear, as I take you deeper.  Once I’m a whimpering mess, you start up again, slowly pulsing into me, teaching me to take you as you whisper in my ear, “That’s it, enjoy it my pretty boy.”_

He’d dropped the wood backed scrub brush, lost in thought.  As he bent over to pick it back up he couldn’t help but wonder if the rumors about native Tevinters was true; were they all better endowed than Fereldans?

A sound from behind him made his nerves jump like a startled cat.  Twisting around he saw the glimpse of a man in the crack of the doorway who bolted.

_Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Michael scrambled out of the shower, throwing a towel around his waist without breaking his stride.  Running out of the bathroom he saw one of his lithographs sitting on the bed and his panic escalated.

_No, no, no, not those, dammit!_

Even more determined to catch this would-be robber, he sprinted down the hall and easily closed the distance since the thief stumbled over his books.  Not taking any chances, Michael tackles the asshole to the ground.

“Kaffas!”  The distinct hiss that was knocked out of the intruder quickly identifying him.

“Dread Wolf take me, Dorian?”  Michael spit the curse as he tried to climb off his boss. 

Dorian roughly grabbed at him, pulling them together with a thud of chests meeting.  Dorian bent his knees and spread his thighs a bit to have their bodies fit together. 

The Tevinter shamelessly rolled his hips up against Michael’s thin towel.  “ _Mmm, yes._   I hope you’re always this rough.”

With their faces a breath a part, Michael could smell the hint of chocolate, emberium, and the unmistakable sweetness of **_kynlíf blóm,_** the main ingredient in elvhen smut cookies.  “Dorian, did you eat my cookies?”

At the question, Dorian seemed to come to his senses and blinked wide-eyed.  “I…may have had a few.”

“Shit.”  Michael pushed himself up and out of Dorian’s hold.  He re-secured his towel hastily to hide his lower body’s inappropriate excitement. 

Dorian drug himself up from the floor with a steading breath.  “My apologies, I’m uncertain what has come over me.”  He turned on Michael, lust sparkling in his eyes as he flashed a wicked grin.  “But I know who I want to come on me.”

Shocked and unsure, Michael kept both hands in front of the only part of his body that fully agreed with Dorian’s plan.  That familiar tingle under his skin flared lightly.  This was dangerous.  “Dorian, you’re not thinking straight.  It’s the cookies, they’re an aphrodisiac.”

Dorian produced a sheet of paper from his robes with the dramatic flair of a magician.  “And this isn’t?  Shall I read your words to you?”

 _Oh, holy fuck._ He’d sent it.  No wonder he was here.  Michael wanted to die.  “No.  You need to go.  I won’t take advantage of you in this state.”

Dorian unbuckled his robes.  The first layer fell heavy to the floor as Michael walked backwards in an attempt to put distance between them.  Dorian’s advance was primal and predatory.  Soon, Michael felt the cool metal of the balcony rail pressing into his back. 

Dorian widened his stride to close the distance.  “Take advantage?  For a smart man, you can truly be rather simple at times.  I have wanted you all day.  In my office, you have no idea the restraint I exercised.  Your looks are certainly top shelf, but knowing you share my passion for healing, I find you irresistible.” 

“Impossible.”  It came as a whisper but they were so close, Dorian heard him perfectly.

“Do you honestly think I tossed these in my pocket without the intent to use them?”  Between two nimble fingers Dorian held the familiar generic foil packet of ‘sterile lubricating jelly’ the hospital had in abundance.  He crossed his left arm over his chest, propping his right elbow on the wrist to have hand face level, the little packet tapping his check.  “Tell me you didn’t mean what you said in your email and I’ll leave.”

Michael swallowed thickly, trying to muddle through the incapacitating haze of lust that wanted to make all of his decisions for him.  Dorian now stood inches from him.  Bending his head down slightly, his lips landed on Michael’s neck, gracing it with short sucks. 

“Just say no.” A small kiss. 

“I’m a big boy.”  A lick. 

“I can take as well as I give,” Firm hands planted on Michael’s rear, fingers pressed his towel suggestively in the crease with a firm squeeze.  “but _oh Maker,_ can I give.”

The titillating laugh that danced in the shell of Michael’s ear was the final grain of rice that tipped the scale.  Weak-kneed, he melted in the Tevinter’s grip.  Ever since he first saw Dorian’s picture, he knew he wanted this.  “Do it.  Prove to me you’re not all talk _._ ”

With a husky laugh, Dorian rose to the challenge.  He spun Michael around so fast he had to brace himself on the rail to keep from losing balance and falling to the ground.  Dorian squat low behind and frisked up and down Michael’s legs, pressing his fingers reverently into the lean muscles.  “Magnificent, do you swim?”

“No.”  Michael’s voice was raspy, anticipation killing him.  “Fencing.”

Reaching between his legs, Dorian grabbed Michael’s growing member and gave it a fun tug.  The blonde could feel his smile as Dorian pressed kisses into his thighs.  “I see you do enjoy _swordplay._ ”  Dorian brought his hands back, using them to spread Michael’s fine ass wide.  “So beautiful, and sparkling clean just for me.”

A smart comeback was on the tip of Michael’s tongue until Dorian reached around to tenderly point his cock downward.  From behind, Dorian’s tongue started at the tip of the cock, licked up the shaft, over the balls and finished with a teasing swirl over the asshole.  Over and over, he slicked this trail.  The explosive sensation sent Michael lunging forward, his chest hitting the rail as his knees trembled. 

Never had Michael expected things to escalate so quickly.  They went from vague hints earlier in the day to Dorian licking him like a tootsie pop, eager to get a taste of his candy center.  The rush of the whole situation sent shivers tingling up through Michael’s ribs and down to his feet to curl his toes. 

Fingernails bit into his flesh as more of the focus centered on Michael’s entrance, causing him to release a thick moan that pierced into the night.

“Yes.”  Dorian paused, but his nose remained nuzzled against Michael’s skin, his hot breath skimming over the wetness.  “A bit louder if you please.  I do so love hearing about my own excellence.”

The tip of Dorian’s tongue darted playfully into his ass, Michael tried to force his body to relax, wanting more, wanting to be filled.  A playful slap to his ass announced that Dorian was done.  He stood next to a lustful Michael, intentionally having his erection rubbing softly against the man’s thigh.  Michael sucked in a breath as Dorian’s fingers started at the base of his neck to ghost down his spine all the way to the tip of his tailbone. 

The globs of lube that suddenly materialized were fucking freezing in contrast to the heat that flushed under his skin.  Michael didn’t have time to dwell on that as Dorian’s fingers lightly teased, then pried their way through the tight, round muscle.  Michael’s stomach bottomed out, drawing his eyes to the back of his head.  The middle and ring finger worked their way inward as the two outer fingers pressed exquisitely at the base of his balls. 

Michael pushed his ass out to get Dorian’s fingers as deep as possible, swaying forward and back on his heels, trying to mimic the rhythm his body begged for.  Chuckling at his efforts, Dorian pressed his shoulder on to Michael’s back, his lips sucking fat kisses on the deltoid.  “ _Mmm_ , so delicious.” 

Dorian’s expert fingers swished and played against the sensitive tissue.  Micheal’s teeth were bared, eyes pinched shut, sweat beading at his temples, he needed more. 

“Please, _please,_ fuck me already.”  Michael’s knees gave slightly when Dorian withdrew his hand.

Looking over his shoulder, he watched Dorian gracefully remove the rest of his clothes and Michael was once again stuck by how perfectly smooth Dorian’s dark skin was. 

With a firm grip on Michael’s hips, he could feel the man’s hot cock nestling against his slick ass.  Dorian leaned against Michael’s back to kiss along the spine.  “I’m going to be rough with you, if you’ll let me.”

“ _Yes._ ”  At this point, Michael was so far gone.  He’d say ‘yes’ to almost anything, leaving him to question which of them was actually under the influence of the smut cookies.  He only knew that he wanted to be completely wrecked.  He wanted Dorian to turn him into a boneless puddle of satisfaction.  “Please, yes.”

Suddenly, Dorian slipped into Michael with no warning, fully seated to the point the blonde swore he felt the tip shoot through him to hit the back of his throat.  There was no chance to react as Dorian laced his arms under Michael’s armpits to then loop back behind his head, linking his fingers to lock their bodies together.  Dorian lifted him up effortlessly and Michael instinctively wrapped his legs backward to hook under his boss’ firm buttocks. 

The Tevinter bent his knees slightly to thrust upward in tandem with his arms lifting and lowering Michael over his eager cock.  It took effort to get the rhythm right, but once they found it, Maker’s breath, it was phenomenal.  Dorian nibbled on his neck, sucked on his earlobe, which Michael answered by craning his head back to have their lips meet.  The brush of Dorian’s mustache on his lips made Michael’s hunger for the man grow.  Taut chest pressed to his back, lean muscular arms rendering his own helpless as he held him off the damn ground to pound into him with abandon.  This position gave full control to Dorian and Michael swam in the feeling of being taken.  His fantasy coming to life, Michael willingly offered himself to this epitome of masculinity, savoring the excitement of being tossed around by the strong healer.  He was utterly helpless pinned like this, but the feeling of Dorian plunging so deep within, was nothing shy of glorious. 

Eventually, Dorian walked to the coffee table to gently set Michael down in a kneeling position on the furniture, freeing his hands to give Michael a much needed reach around.  When Dorian took him in hand and began to stroke him, Michael’s hands clamped onto the table’s edge to the point his knuckles turned white. 

This time, his body readily took Dorian whole.  Fully relaxed and in a more comfortable position, Michael squeezed hard, loving the pulling draw as Dorian’s dick moved outward then mewling with pleasure at the sudden rush each time he plunged back in.

“ _Kaffas!_   So tight.  So... _nngh!_ Damn.”  Dorian’s large free hand coiled around Michael’s neck and coaxed him to sit up so he could bite gently at the blonde’s ear as he spoke.  Just like the story.  “Michael, My-call.”  His masculine giggle was auditory sex for the ears.  Dorian was amused by his malapropism, then twisted Michael’s head a little to lick along his jaw.  “My siren song.  Sing my name, come for me.”

His thrusts were coming harder, pushing Michael’s cock into Dorian’s expertly shaped hand. It was too much.  He was almost there.  Breathless and struggling to put words together, Michael pleaded.  “Yes, make me.  Make me!”

The hand at his throat disappeared to travel downward.  Michael’s stomach clenched the moment he felt those strong fingers playing with his balls. 

“ **Great Maker, Dorian!** ”  The orgasmic explosion ripped him asunder.  He took control of the pace by undulating his hips to pump into Dorian’s hand at the perfect, magnificently intense speed to ride every last second of his orgasm to the point there was a dull ringing in his ears.

Dorian soon followed him over the edge as he came hard, pulling Michael down over him to be buried balls deep.  His throaty moan managed to sound just as aristocratic as Dorian looked.  While Michael caught his breath, flopping down to all fours, Dorian fell on his back, letting the space between Michael’s shoulder blades cradle his beautiful face.

Dorian was the first to speak, his voice clearly lacking energy.  “I think you may have woken the neighbors with that one.”

“That’s not funny.”  Michael tried to sound serious, but a kinky corner of his brain actually hoped that Mixie had heard that. 

Hugging his waist, Dorian hummed his demand into Michael’s back.  “I believe it is your turn to carry me.”

“ _Tsk_.  Not like this.”

Taking the hint, Dorian gently withdrew and grabbed at one of his articles of clothing to help Michael clean up a bit so he could climb down from the table.  Back on his own two feet. Dorian lust-drunkenly wrapped the man in his arms, one hand traveling over his rear, the other gliding up his back to pull him into a deep, heady kiss. 

The unrushed intimacy was in stark contrast to moments earlier.  Michael was the one to draw back, albeit reluctantly.  “How are you feeling?”

“Excellent, or better than, actually.  That was…fascinating!”  His eyes perked up and Michael could feel Dorian’s excitement in the way his arms squeezed him tighter.  “Do those cookies always have that type of effect?  What’s in them?  Does the quantity consumed have any bearing as to the intensity of the resulting effect?”

Michael had to stop the barrage of questions.  He smothered the onslaught with mouth, using his hands to hold Dorian’s face close to his as he breathed heavily throughout his assault.  Noisy, wet, and sensual tongue play, these were the type of kisses that turned men into puppets. 

This time when he pulled apart, Dorian looked at him dreamily.  Quietly, the enamored Vint followed Michael back into the apartment and into the bedroom bathroom, both of them snuffing out candles along the way. 

The water was turned on once again but this time two men stood in the spacious shower stall.  As Dorian stood under the steaming water, he tilted his head back to thoroughly wet his heir, running both hands through.  The man was effortlessly gorgeous.

“How did you get in here?”  Michael lathered up is hands and motioned for Dorian to present his back.  Wet and slick with suds, the strapping muscles in his boss’ back were sublimely arousing to feel under his fingertips. 

“Your friend Lily gave me a key after I was unceremoniously thrown out of your friend’s apartment down the hall.”

“Mixie?  What were you doing there?”

“Making an ass of myself, which I now place the entirety of the blame upon you.”  Dorian waved a dismissive hand before taking the soap in hand to return the favor.  His hands massaged more than washed.  “After receiving your scandalously naughty letter, I tried to hunt you down, thinking you and she were somehow connected.”

Michael turned and found Dorian’s eyelids falling lazily as he visually drank in the sight of his body. 

“Maker’s blood I have impeccable taste.”  He placed his hands on Michael’s chest, splaying his fingers over the pecs.  With a small push, his hands began a journey outward, down the sides, curving back at the hips to briefly clasp his firm ass, then his fingers furrowed up Michael’s arching back to rest on his shoulder blades in an intimate embrace.  The whole exploration fanned the flames within Michael’s core, his insatiable cock nudging at Dorian as it stiffened.

Responding with a lusty grin, Dorian eased his hold to take Michael in hand as he languidly kissed Michael’s mouth, his tongue alternating between playing on the blonde’s lips and darting into his mouth.  “I see I’m not the only one who indulged in desert this evening.  It’s a good thing I’m still hungry.”

Dorian sank to his knees to wrap his lips around Michael’s shaft, taking it deep, then angling his head to look up longingly at Michael.  He watched as he disappeared into Dorian’s mouth again and again, sometimes adding a little thrust to truly burry himself.  All the while, Dorian looked up at him with wide eyes that seemed to be asking a question.  _Am I a good boy for you?_

“Creators, you’re so amazing.  You’re my good little slut.”  He didn’t know where the words came from but it was apparently what the man wanted to hear.

Dorian broke eye contact to take him all the way to the back of his throat.  The brush of the mustache on Michael’s groin was beyond erogenous in conjunction with Dorian’s nose pressed hard into the base of his abs.  It would be impossible to get any deeper. 

Then Dorian swallowed. 

The muscles in his throat milked the tender member that had never before felt anything so wicked and erotic.  Once, twice…eight times before Dorian had to pull back to gasp for air.  Before Michael could offer any praise or even form a coherent thought, Dorian was at it again, this time dipping down then up rhythmically while his tongue worked furiously within his mouth. The tongue slicked up the length, then flicked and swirled over the tip before darting into the slit.  The raunchy dance hidden within his cheeks resonated in Michael’s core like a wonton hammer, fraying his nerves to the point of no return.  Dorian was ravenous in his giving head.  He was good at it and he damn well knew it. 

Michael dug his hand into the Vint’s hair, gripping it tight as he took over, forcing himself into the man’s mouth.  With a whimper, he tried to give some warning, “ _Ah, yes_ , yes…I’m, I’m…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish as Dorian took hold of his cock to pump all of Michael’s glorious spend over his face, smile bright and a pleased chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Michael slid to the floor as Dorian stood to rinse his face.  “Ah!  Greatest advantage to some shower sex, wouldn’t you agree?  Applause is appropriate if you are wondering.”

“I think I’m dead.”

Killing the water, Dorian reached out to help the PA to his feet.  “Come now, up from the dead, I command it.  I shan’t sleep alone in a strange bed.” 

Under the soft bedding, they both sought each other for added warmth and to continue fondling, caressing and simply enjoying the feel of their bodies.  The sexual tension was fully spent and now was the time for lethargic adoration.  Facing each other, neither of the men could stop grinning, eyes locked together as they spoke, an exhaustive sleep threatening to crash down at any minute.

“That email is the best mistake I have ever made.”

“You should make them more often.  I enjoy cleaning up your messes.”

“Is everything you say laden with innuendo?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?”  Dorian squirmed closer, their legs twining together as his head found a home in the crock of Michael’s arm.  Kissing his pecs, Dorian’s voice waned as he let sleep claim him.  “Tonight has been the best fling of my life.”

Michael’s mood fell a bit at the word.  _Fling._   “Dorian?”

It was too late, he’d passed out.  A small ball of fear in the pit of his stomach kept Michael from following suit.  He lay in bed, thoughts jumbled. 

Eventually he curled his arm around Dorian to draw him closer, molding their bodies together.  Perhaps if he held on tight enough through the night…

***

The late morning daylight shone bright into Michael’s bedroom.  Although he didn’t feel ready to face the day, he at least felt well rested.  Smiling into his pillow, he stretched, a fun tingle flitted through his stomach as he remembered last night.  When his arms swept large arcs in the bed, he soon realized that he was alone.  Startled, he bolted upright and searched the room, even though he already knew the disheartening answer.

“Dorian?”

Silence.

Dorian was gone.

Michael rubbed at his face then mussed his hair, surprised it was a bit tangled from sleeping in it damp.  His cell rang and he padded into the bathroom to pick it out of his pants from the night before.

“Hey, Lily.”

“Hey, Sugar.  You want some breakfast or should I skip to lunch?”  Her tone was teasing and lighthearted, probably assuming his morning was as pleasant as his evening. 

It made Dorian’s abandonment sting a little harder.  “I’ll do breakfast, sure.  For one.”

“One?”

Puffing out a sigh, “Yeah, just one.”


	4. Kinky Elvhen Shit

Michael hung up the phone and began his day as though nothing had happened the night before.  It was better this way, honestly.  He’d had his fair share of terrible relationships and this _fling_ had a better ending than any of those.  At least Dorian had been upfront.  No games, even after he’d learnt Michael’s connection to the famous _Practical Applications_ book.  Usually that was all anyone cared about.  Dorian hadn’t tried to manipulate him, ask for favors or use any of Michael’s connections in Iceland. 

Michael threw on a pair of loose lounge pants then picked up the lithograph Dorian had pulled down the previous night, he was reminded of one person in particular who had actually asked him if he could do some of the ‘kinky elvhen shit’. 

The piece of art was rehung, then Michael went to the living room to wait for breakfast.  He slumped down in the first chair he came to.  Rubbing at his temple, he regretted letting Lily know he was alone.  Knowing her and her mother hen instincts, she’d be the one with food in hand and ready to march on the war path. 

Pushing that thought out of his mind, Michael leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes to replay his favorite moments from last night.  At least it had been a good fling.  Thinking on Dorian’s touch, the way he’d skillfully jerked him off while pounding him from behind sent a small spark of lust from Michael’s chest down to his core.  Alone in his apartment, he had no shame in reaching down to meet his need.  He remembered how full he felt with Dorian, how well the man angled himself to hit just right.  Michael released a pleased moan.  His strokes became a little faster and his grip firmer. 

What truly cinched his chest tight was the thought of Dorian’s kisses.  Soft lips.  Eager, sweet, probing tongue.  The bristle of his mustache.  Mint and citrus had assailed his senses each time Dorian panted in his face.  Panted with need, wanting.  This time he groaned open mouthed as his pulse began to race.

His sound was cut off as another mouth covered his.  Full lips were pressed to his then came to a pucker, capturing his tongue and sucking it.  The warm wetness that was left behind left Michael feeling as if he’d been branded by the kiss. 

“My, my, so insatiable.  Couldn’t even wait for me before you got started?”

“Dorian?”  Michael swiftly pulled his hand from his pants and twisted to see the man standing behind him.  “I thought you left.”

“Left?  No.  Although, I’m not sure how welcome I feel.”  He walked around the chair so Michael no longer had to crane his neck.  Dorian also only wore a pair of “Are you aware there is hardly anything to eat here?  There’s no food in the fridge, nothing palatable in the pantry.  I would almost think you were trying to drive me off!”

His tone was mocking and playful, but Michael’s noticed a neat pile of clothes sitting by the door.  He was ready to leave at a moment’s notice.  The comment was intended to give Michael an opening.  _If I’m unwelcome, tell me now._

Dorian took a step towards the kitchen, which was incidentally near the front door.  Unsure of his intended destination, Michael rushed to his feet and grabbed Dorian’s hand.  “Don’t go.”

The tension in Dorian melted away, his shoulders eased, his smile became lazy and more natural. The unguarded ease with which he spoke was intoxicating. “And miss out on the opportunity to spend an entire carefree day with you?  Never.”

An entire day together.  That was what Dorian truly wanted and as Michael stood there gazing at him, Michael knew that nothing would make him happier. 

Stepping forward Dorian’s left hand moved to rest on Michael’s hip, his thumb played at the waist.  Dorian reached out with his right hand and when Michael offered his, Dorian merely pressed them together flat, fanned out his fingers which then cascaded clockwise to ghost over the skin and slowly wrap around the back of Michael’s hand.  Dorian pressed his thumb in the center of Michael’s hand to squeeze gently.  The entire gesture happened within moments, as if Dorian were about to sweep him up in a waltz.  Instead, Dorian let go to move his hand on Michael’s hip.

Mesmerized by the way Dorian’s mustache reacted when he smiled, Michael reached up with both hands around Dorian’s neck to pull him close while Dorian’s wondered back around to Michael’s ass.  There, He pulled Michael closer and up into a deep, consuming kiss. 

Everything about Dorian was exhilarating.  His voice was addictive.  Passion was poured into every kiss.  His hands grasped at Michael’s body, pawing tenderly to enjoy every inch. 

Dorian’s kisses were coming more rapidly, his breath puffing out thicker.  He wrapped his arms tighter to have their bodies fit together suggestively.  With one hand kneading his buttocks and the other supporting his back, Dorian’s mouth moved to lavish attention on Michael’s neck and shoulders.  Michael arched his back and tilted his head to fully offer himself up.  It was so easy to give in. 

Dorian started to walk Michael backward to the couch when there was a knock on the door.  The healer tsk’d his irritation.  “How abominably rude.” 

Dorian didn’t let go, or even slow down.  If anything, he continued his assault with greater fervor.  Michael found himself pushed roughly to lay flat on the couch as Dorian unrelentingly kissed and nipped all over his upper body. 

“Dorian, I really should…”  Just as Michael tried to convince Dorian to pause, the Tevinter wedged his body between Michael’s legs and bucked his hips.  “ _Oh_ , Blessed Creators!”

Dorian was impossibly hard and Michael’s cock was thankful for the thin fabric of the pants he wore.  The soft cotton rubbed taunting against his sensitive skin, leaving Dorian in no doubt as to Michael’s equal excitement. 

“Dorian, it’s probably Lily.  We should…”  Dorian bucked again and covered Michael’s words with his mouth.  His tongue traced Michael’s lower lip before he captured it with his teeth to gently suckle as another knock came at the door.  At the sound, Dorian’s hand traveled dangerously to the top of Michael’s pants, pulling them downward a bit and stopped.  Dorian leaned back to sit on his heels, his lips lightly brushing over Michael’s chest as he inched lower.  Both of his hands firmly held the waistband now, Dorian flicked small licks along the edge, then he looked up at Michael with molten eyes that set his lust aflame like a match to gasoline.   There was no mistaking his intent. 

“She could have key.”  Michael whispered, unable to catch his breath.

“Then we should make her envious.” 

That voice.  That perfect, deep, seductive timbre could convince a man to walk on hot coals and enjoy it.  Michael let his head fall back on the arm rest and Dorian went to work.  He took Michael’s pants with him as he stood, then shed his own as he shoved the coffee table out of the way.  A few items clattered noisily to the floor.

“Michael?”  The muffled voice from the other side of the door was Krem. 

Krem could walk in on them, Maker’s breath this was stupid.  The pounding at the door became more insistent and Michael watched as Dorian became harder, his cock twitching with anticipation.

He wanted to get caught.

Excitement rushed through Michael as he got up to reach for Dorian’s hips, it seemed only fair after last night, but that wasn’t enough for Dorian.  He guided them to the floor to lay on their sides so that both were receiver and giver. 

More pounding on the door. 

_This is crazy, this is crazy…fuck, this is good, oh, so damn good._

Michael sucked and mimicked what he felt, then fondled and licked as he wanted done to him.  It was feral, rushed.  For a moment, Michael had a glimmer of hope that maybe they would finish before….

Keys rattled in the lock.

Dorian swung his leg to hook behind Michael’s head at the same time that he swallowed Michael completely, locking their bodies together.  Resigned, Michael let it happen, partially hiding his face by pulling Dorian’s thigh closer.  He never saw them enter, but he sure as the Void heard them.

“You could have said something dammit!”

“Alright!  Way to go, Michael!”

Then the scuffling of feet was accompanied by Dorian’s muffled laughter as he resumed his pace.  Micheal had never felt so dirty and loved every second of it.  His fingers dug into Dorian’s flesh, pulling his body to him, forcing him to fuck his face.  He wanted to taste him, to know this man, this fucking Vint. 

He was having sex with a Magister’s son.  It couldn’t possibly be more taboo than this.  A fresh rush flared hot under his skin.  He’d heard people use the description of a raging hard on before, but this was explosive.

“Dorian…”  It came out as a moaning pant and was cut off as his body lost control.  Dorian reacted quickly and sucked greedily as Michael spilled into his mouth.  He felt a hot spurt land on his cheek and he reciprocated by taking Dorian in the same manner.  With a hand on Dorian’s hip, he rocked the Healer back and forth slowly as he sucked the last drops out, helping him ride the small wakes of his orgasm to its fullest. 

Dorian rolled onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head.  “As I said, you are my Siren.  You should hear the naughty things that cross my mind when I look at you.”

“I’m glad you’re polite enough to share those thoughts.”  Michael felt amazing.  Refreshed.  He had this man all day?  Being at the Maker’s side couldn’t be this blissful.  He propped himself up on an elbow as he smiled at Dorian.  “Ready to get dressed?”

“No.  I actually prefer you like this.  Ready for the taking when it strikes my fancy.”  He waved his hand glibly.  “Or yours.  I’m not particular when it comes to sins of the flesh.”

“Well, I’m hungry and I know there is food on the other side of that door, so if you don’t mind?”  Michael tossed Dorian his pants and found his own.  Michael donned a shirt, unlike Dorian.  They took a few moments to set themselves and the room right before Michael called through the door that it was safe to enter.  Knowing Lily, she wouldn’t be far.

Krem was the first to walk in, he snorted with a small grin.  “Took you long enough.”

Lily walked in with breakfast sacks in hand.  She was wearing her hoodie backward and pulled up, unable to see where she was going.  “Krem!  Is it safe?”

Rolling his eyes, Krem pulled her hood down.  “Yes and look, he’s just fine.  Just as I said.” 

“They’re both fine.”  She purred which sent a flush up Michael’s neck. 

“Easy darling, he’s not your type.”  The couple set the bags on the table to unpack the contents. 

Dorian looked offended.  “I’m everyone’s type!”

“Thank you for bringing this, I really appreciate it.”  Michael sat down eagerly as the encouragement of the rumble in his stomach.  He looked up from his meal to see Lily tugging on Krem’s sleeve.  “You’re not staying?  There’s plenty here.”

“Thank you, but no.  Krem has some _thing_ to take care of.”  This time it was Krem’s turn to blush as he followed is wife out the door.

Krem pointed his finger at Dorian to give his parting words.  “Hey, big guy.  Don’t be an ass, remember?” 

“What a charmingly eccentric couple.  Do you often find yourself torn between liking them and being thoroughly annoyed with them?”  Dorian floated down gracefully into his chair as he took up the utensils.

“Lily’s the only one you have to worry about.  She’s always a bit, forward.  Although, she does tend to make up for it in other ways.”  Michael gestured at the meal.  “Besides, Krem helps to even her out.  You should have known them before they were together.”

Michael chuckled at the memory but noticed that Dorian was quietly picking at his food.  “You alright?”

“I’m not rushing you am I?”  Dorian’s eyes darted a bit as if the cocky, self-assured genius had anything to be unsure about.  “I can’t say that I often find myself staying beyond the mutual exchange of pleasure.  I’m not too proud to own up to the fact I am unaccustomed to how things work in the South.”

Michael reached out with his hand and Dorian took it, squeezing lightly. 

“It’s just that, I find myself quite enamored with you.”  Dorian tugged his hand free to pick up a book from the side table.  “Especially after reading your thoughts on this.”

The book was _A Modern Treatise on Balancing the Humors,_ the one Michael had marked up.  He knew what he said in there and flushed a bit at the uncensored comments that were rampant throughout. 

“I woke early and couldn’t help myself.  I was reading it on the balcony when I was interrupted by someone being loud in the living.”  Dorian gave a sly wink. 

Michael found he couldn’t stop smiling.  He never wanted his feeling to go away.  “So, you’ve been sexed, dined and even entertained by my book collection.  Care to take the drastic leap and get to know each other better?”

“That does sound scandalous and delightful.”  Dorian pressed at and fingered his mustache, working it back to its desired shape.  “How do you think that would best be done?  A long walk on the beach?  A picnic on the shoreline?”

Michael held his mug of coffee, enjoying the warmth in his hands.  “I’d rather stay in, read.  Perhaps engage in friendly banter back and forth about an engrossing topic.”

“What was that?  Something about back and forth and engorging pricks?”

“You certainly have a dirty mind.”

“Spoiled is bit more accurate.”  Dorian rose to stand behind Michael, massaging his shoulders briefly before he slid his hands down over Michael’s chest.  Dorian bent down to place lazy kisses on his shoulder.  “I know what I like and I always get what I want.”

***

The following two weeks had every other night spent at Michael’s after work.  Dorian was an incorrigible flirt at work.  He offered sly glances, knowing grins and would often find cause to have their hands brush.  Other than that, it was strictly professional.  Even Krem warmed up to Dorian after a few days.  Well, he at least quit warning him to not be an ass. 

As mind-blowing as their first night together had been, there weren’t as many nights that reached that level of depravity since.  Most evenings were spent on the balcony.  Dorian would have his feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the coffee table.  Michael would either sit at his side, shoulder’s leaning together, with his own book or if they were discussing the same one, he would rest with his head in Dorian’s lap. 

The latter arrangement was how they were currently lounging only Dorian had a glass of wine in one hand and Michael’s hair in the other. 

Propping his elbow over the back of the couch, Dorian looked down on his lover.  “Tell me.  What was it like to work on the book?”

“You’re asking about _him_ aren’t you?”  Michael sat up at the question. 

“You can’t fault me for being curious.” 

“And that’s what you want to know about?” 

Dorian took a long sip of his wine as he stared off in the distance, considering the question.  “No.  I suppose what I am most curious about is how you became involved.  Not that I question your intelligence, it’s just that it’s so difficult for humans to get a visa into Iceland.  I’m fascinated to know how you gained entry.”

This was hauntingly familiar.  Uncomfortable with Dorian’s comment, Michael stood and walked to lean on the rail, avoiding Dorian’s gaze.  “What does it matter?  It was years ago.”

Michael heard the distinct ‘clink’ of the wine glass being set down.  Soon, warm hands rubbed at his back and down his sides.  “I ask as a matter of personal interest.  Once I’m done with this assignment, I might have the opportunity to travel there as part of an outreach program.”

“You want to go to Iceland?”  Michael turned in Dorian’s arms.  “As part of a medical program?  But your father…”

“Is an utter ass who is trying to cling on to a worthless and decaying past.”  Dorian stared intently at Michael, driving home his sincerity. 

As if spies were watching their every move, Dorian’s phone rang and when he pulled it from his pocket, he barely glimpsed at the profile picture of a nug’s asshole.  “Ah, speaking of the Blight.”

Michael watched Dorian ignore the call for the tenth time since they’d been together.  “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

Bringing a hand up to Michael’s cheek, he drew the blonde closer by skimming his fingers along the jawline.  “Why would I waste my time on him when I have someone far more worthy, more handsome, and certainly more intelligent before me?”

“Flatterer.”  They exchanged a few soft kisses, then Michael put a hand to Dorian’s chest to hold him at bay.  “I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?  Is it something you’re wearing beneath that?  Can I take it off with my teeth?”  Dorian’s eyes roamed over Michael’s body as though they could see right through the clothing.

“No.  I’ve arranged for us to have dinner and spend the night at the Custard.”  Dorian rolled his eyes, which had Michael spilling into his reasoning.  “You know I can’t cook, half of our meals come from there anyway.  Besides, Lily has been hounding me about it as a means for making up for the morning they walked in on us.  I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“I admit I’m intrigued.”  Dorian stroked his chin for a few moments, then caved.  “Alright, I trust your judgement.  Dazzle me with the finery that ‘The Custard’ has to offer.

 

He’d never admit it, but Michael knew Dorian was impressed.  Lily didn’t run a shabby place and Michael knew personally that all the workers were cleaner than the Divine’s toilet.  However, that was of no consequence tonight.  Michael had never sought services here and tonight, he certainly had no need to.  Bull led them to a room on one of the upper floors which Michael knew to be among the best The Custard had to offer. 

The interior was similar to a lavish two room hotel.  The furnishings were new, plush and opulent.  The style favored an old world theme.  Lily likely picked it to appeal to Dorian’s penchant for beautiful and fine things.  Knowing Michael well, she had also seen to it the interior was lit with candles.  The bed was a grand, king sized four-poster.  It was covered in a feather down comforter and pillows made of stiff foam.  Dorian squeezed a few of them and Michael could almost see the new sex positions the ‘Vint wanted to try with the help of supportive pillows. 

They walked back to the living room where dinner waited for them under covered domes on a richly set table for two next to the window overlooking the city and the shoreline just beyond.  Michael walked to the table while Dorian wandered toward the lit fireplace to inspect a box. 

“This yours?”

“No.”  Michael turned in time to see Dorian open the box then slam it shut, holding the lid down.  “What’s in there?” 

Rubbing his hands along the edge of the box, Dorian hesitantly answered.  “When I first met your stunningly perceptive Madame Lily, she mentioned that she was familiar with Tevinter ‘tastes’.  She hasn’t happened to mention them to you by chance?”

“Well, it makes sense, she is married to one, even if he is an ex-pat.”  Michael searched his memory and came up blank.  “She hasn’t mentioned anything about ‘tastes’ that I remember, but I’m pretty open-minded, surely they’re not that far out there.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Dorian opened the box for Michael to see inside.  Whips, paddles, cuffs, masks and a bunch of unidentifiable paraphernalia filled the box to the brim.  Michael reached in and pulled out the oddest piece that was near the top.

“What is this?  It looks like an AED.”  The black, electronic device was slightly smaller than a lunchbox and had four wires with small adhesive pads on the ends.  The wires were neatly folded to proclaim the item new.  In fact, everything in the box looked new.

“It’s actually a shock therapy kit.”  Wagging a finger at Michael’s raised eyebrows, Dorian chided him.  “Don’t give me that look!  You said you were open-minded.”  He snatched it from Michael’s hands.  “Besides, it would be for me anyway.”

“I, just…um, alright.”  Michael was relieved but, still coming up short on how that thing would be used.

He watched as Dorian practically giggled when he pulled out a long metal bar with four foam padded Velcro cuffs attached; one on each end and two in the center.

“Oh, this.  Please tell me that this is within your comfort zone, yes?”  Dorian looked up at him with the best puppy dog eyes that Michael had ever seen in his life.  Shit, he’d use it if it made his lover happy. 

He gave a nod, hoping to address its specific use later, then continued to watch Dorian dig through the box.  There was only one item in there that actually stumped the ‘Vint, but was all too familiar to Michael. 

Dorian held up a jar sealed with blue wax for Michael’s opinion.  “Any clue as to what might be in this thing?”

“Actually, this one, is for me.”  It was Michael’s turn to laugh as he took the jar from Dorian.  “You have your sexy secrets, I have mine.”

Standing to take Michael’s hand, Dorian led the way back to the bedroom.  “I fear that I have lost one appetite and gained another.”

Once he crossed the threshold, Michael began to shuck his clothes.  Dorian followed his lead and lay down on the bed with him, leaning up on an elbow, his head cradled in a hand. 

“Here, crack the seal and put some in your hands.  You’re going to give me a rub down.”  Dorian quirked a questioning brow.  “Don’t worry, it’s perfect as a lube as well.”

Dorian followed the instructions to the letter, but added his own element as he chose to straddle Michael’s thighs, knowing their arousals would rub together the entire time.  At first, there was nothing remarkable about the gel like liquid.  It slicked up Michael’s skin and had him glistening beautifully in the candle light.

“Is this all?  I at least had the expectation that it would warm or some such.”

“Watch.”  Michal took himself in hand and began to stroke his cock.  Lyrium blue tattoos flared to life, glowing magnificently in the low light.

“Maker’s blood!  What is this?!” His eyes were saucers, ready to pop from his skull.  “What is that?!”

Michael quickly grabbed Dorian’s thighs to keep him in place, but he was already feeling the effect of the aphrodisiac.  “It’s Elvhen Heat.  It’s used during the spring Bonding rituals.  You know, the orgies everyone talks about who know nothing of elvhen culture.”

“The Bondings?  Isn’t that done in the open woods?”  Michael had to smile at the scholarly tone Dorian used.  He only prayed that Dorian didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in deep discussion about the topic. 

“Yes.  Couples pair off and spread out.  It’s done at night so the tattoos have a more dramatic effect.”  Unable to control himself, Michael was already squirming, his body seeking friction, caresses, anything that would stroke his lustful fire licking at his body through the tattoos.  “It’s actually an amazing sight.  For as far as the eye can see, the entire forest is lit up as if it were filled with fireflies.”

“But, how do you have clan markings?”

“I’m elvhen-blooded.”  Michael felt his first pang of dread when he saw Dorian mouth a curse.  Now admitting his background felt like he were admitting to being diseased, especially considering the way most of Tevinter viewed elves, not to mention Dorian’s own father.

“Fascinating.  All this time I thought you were a good study at Elvhen culture and instead you cheated and was actually one of them.” 

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Maker, no!  I’m offended you would even entertain the notion.”  Dorian couldn’t tear his gaze from Michael’s toned body.  Licking his lips and with tentative hands, Dorian reached down to trace one of the lines.  “Am I doing this right?”

The concern in his voice washed all doubt from Michael’s mind, leaving him free to arch his back and hum with pleasure.  “Yes, touch me more.  I need it.”

Now that he had some direction, Dorian’s hands pressed into Michael’s pecs, his thumbs playing with the nipples before sliding down to wash over the abs.  They followed the ‘v’ of his pelvis down to cup his balls.  Michael bucked wildly, the intensity amplified and expressed as his skin flared bright at Dorian’s touch. 

Dorian moved further down the bed to lay on his stomach and have his mouth press into and suck and at Michael’s balls.  Michael howled at the way Dorian’s nose moved at the base of his cock.  His entire body demanded sex, oral, anything.  Looking down between his legs, Michael savored the way his markings lit up Dorian’s face, his grin, and even added a sparkle to his beautiful grey eyes.

Michael shimmied away from Dorian’s expert mouth.  “On your back.”

He was quick to obey and when Michael knelt between his legs, Dorian spread them wider.  Taking some of the slick off his chest, Michael primed himself before slowly pressing his erection into Dorian.  A thrill burst in his chest when he heard Dorian’s breath hitch.  It happened each time he pressed a little further, stretching Dorian a little wider.  Halfway, he looped his arm under Dorian’s knee and braced his other hand on the bed, changing the angle of his body for better leverage.

Judging by the way Dorian writhed and mumbled his pleas, this was exactly what he wanted.  It wasn’t long before Michael was fully seated, damn this man was tight.  Dorian reached up with one hand and pulled Michael down by the neck.  He offered one kiss before making his demand.  “Make love to me, my Siren.”

“Vhenan.”  Michael swept Dorian up in a constant wave of kisses which prevented the ‘Vint from asking about the endearment given.  They were both consumed with the act of slow, sensual sex.  Even when Dorain’s could have taken a true pounding, Michael stayed steady.  He could feel when his tip pressed that perfect spot within Dorian and savored the way his entire body quivered from the attention.  Michael’s mouth worshiped every inch of caramel flesh it could reach.  His fingers praised each muscle and feature they caressed. 

Dorian was no less desperate.  He gripped and clawed at Michael with each practiced thrust.  He spoke incoherently in Tevene, only sputtering ‘yes’ and ‘more’ in common.  Eventually his breathing became erratic and he had to grab his own cock to jerk himself off, his body pushed beyond the breaking point.  Seeing Dorian cover himself in his own spend, some even reaching his mouth and the fact the man gave zero fucks about it, was Michael’s own breaking point.  Three more easy, deep pumps and he came, filling Dorian’s ass which protested by cinching tighter. 

“Fehendis.”  Michael was breathing heavy as he braced himself above Dorian with shaky arms.  Hovering over his lover, he was overwhelmed.  Everything felt right.

Dorian pulled him down with hungry, probing kissed so they lay together, both men panting, satiated.  Their arms and legs were tangled and foreheads pressed together in adoration while their bodies were enveloped in the soft bedding.

Dorian pulled away a bit to look on Michael fully.  “How long do you need to rest?”

“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Oh, compliment to be sure.”  Dorian’s hands snaked down to squeeze Michael’s firm ass.  “I can’t get enough you.”

“Alright, how about you show me how to use some of your favorite toys?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my inspiration for the concocted elvhen Bonding Ritual.  
>  [Fireflies!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCWkzQqO7Ro)


	5. Unwelcome Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magister Halward Pavus comes to town.

_His hands braced against the headboard.  A gentle tug at the collar around his neck.  A tongue gliding up his spine._

_The sting of a paddle, followed by his begging for more._

_Easy, languid thrusts.  Dorian’s walls constricting around him as electricity jolts through the doctor’s buttocks._

_Lips wrapped around his cock.  Beads tugged free from behind.  One. By. One.  Moustachioed grins illuminated by a dull blue light._

_Damp skin gliding effortlessly together.  Keening, writhing, bucking, as bodies demanded more.  Minds wrecked.  Words impossible to utter._

_Muscles, hard lines, sharp features – perfection – mounting him, holding him down, taking him, owning him._

_Riding.  Back arched.  Needy fingers.  Incoherent screams._

_Whimpers.  Long looks.  Soft kisses.  Tender caresses.  The smell of sex thick in the air._

 

“Michael?  Are you even listening to me?”

Michael felt weightless in the hot water.  The bathroom was as opulent and spacious as the room itself.  The tub was built with slanted walls, perfect for lounging.  Dorian had added a sweet smelling oil which gave off the scent of coconut and citrus.  The water was so warm he could feel each inhale of steam.  Fully relaxed, Michael had nearly fallen asleep as he lay between Dorian’s legs, his back to the other man’s chest.  “Sorry, my mind was wandering.”

Dorian delicately eased Michael’s right hand back into the water as he took up the left.  His skilled fingers started a massage at the forearm and worked up through the fingertips.  Once again, as Dorian had proved all night, he was intimately familiar with pleasuring his partner. 

“Tends to happen when you’re fucked senseless.”  He kissed the nape of Michael’s neck.  “What were you thinking of?”

“You.  Us.”  His eyelids became heavy again as he enjoyed Dorian’s touch.  “Tonight.  Tonight was…”

Dorian pressed his forehead to the back of Michael’s, his voice dipping lower, husky as he also remembered the past few hours.  “Tonight was the greatest fantasy come to life I never knew I wanted.”

“Yes.  That.”

“My words or what I’m currently doing?”

“All of it.”  Michael sunk a little more in the water.  “Everything.  I never imagined exploring and experimenting would be so erotically satisfying.”

Dorian leaned his head forward to have his nose skim up the back of Michael’s ear, his velvety voice seducing his lover all over again.  “I am a master of all things I take pleasure in.  Myself, work, you…”

With a light chuckle, Michael craned his neck to look at the Eros made flesh behind him.  “I’m amazed I even made that list.”

“Just barely, so don’t get too smug.”  Dorian’s nose brushed along his ear again.

“Fuck.  Touch my ears.”  Michael could feel Dorian’s surprised reaction to the request, but he did as he was asked.  As soon as Dorian began to trace the outline of the sensitive tissue, Michael released a long sigh that turned into a faint purr.  His tattoos flared faintly as most of the Heat had been washed off.

“Vishante kaffas!  How many more little secrets do you have?”

“I’m spacing them out so you’re not overwhelmed all at once.”  Michael tilted his head to get more pressure from Dorian’s ministrations.

“Humility, my friend.  It seems that I’m rubbing off on you.  Tragic.” 

They laid contented in this manner until the water began to chill.  As they climbed out and donned the loose pants they’d brought to sleep in, Dorian’s curiosity suddenly sought satisfaction.

“So, what are these bonding rituals that you mentioned earlier.  I assume it’s not the free-for-all orgies we barbarians have mischaracterized them to be.”

“They’re similar to marriages, but we don’t invoke the Creators the way you would the Maker.  It’s considered to be more private in a way.  The vows are meant for the couple only.  It’s their love, their relationship to shape and grow into.”  Watching Dorian’s reaction, Michael felt the need to expound.  “Take Lily and Krem for instance.  They’re strange and quirky but what they have works for them, as it should be.  No two relationships are the same, otherwise we wouldn’t have the need to find ‘the one’.”

Dorian gave a thoughtful nod.  “Interesting.  If it is a private affair, why the sex in the open woods?”

“It’s seen as a means of sharing the bond, the love between the couple with the entire clan.  Where Southerners parade through town, hand in hand, we have an intimate night with our mate amidst others who share in a similar bond.  Clans are very communal and less perverted than foreigners assume.” 

Climbing into bed, Dorian peeled back the covers, inviting Michael to join him.  “As I have been informed by a reliable source.  The vows you mentioned, are they much different than those of the Chantry?”

Sinking into the bed and feeling Dorian’s arm wrap around him as they spooned had Michael drifting to sleep again.  He tried to stay awake, but he still yawned at the end of his answer.  “Mostly.  The biggest difference that comes to mind is that we don’t say ‘love this person for the rest of my days’.  The phrase is ‘For as long as our love shall last’.”

Dorian ran his hand over Michael’s chest in a manner that nudged the blonde closer to sleep.  “That’s rather pessimistic, isn’t it?”

Eyes shut and words falling lazily, Michael answered as succinctly as he could.  “If you choose to view it that way.  Most elves view it as signifying that love can be carried beyond, death is not an ending of what becomes such a significant part of a person over a lifetime or even a few weeks.”

The silence sat with them a moment.

“Michael, I…” 

“Mmm?”  If Dorian hadn’t said his name, he may not have been pulled away from his slumber.

Dorian nuzzled closer, abandoning his initial confession with a sigh.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

***

Two days later Lily brought one of her employees into the hospital.  “Hey Michael, could you please do me a favor and…”

“And cater to Zev’s newest imagined ailment.”  The PA gestured with a sweeping hand motion.  “Lead the way, my dear.” 

He found Zev sitting on a bed in one of the nearby rooms for less urgent patients.  Lily waited outside the door, giving some privacy. 

“I know what you’re thinking my friend, but this time it truly is no figment of the imagination.”  Zevran pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a nasty looking rash forming around his clan markings. 

Michael hadn’t much time to consider the cause before Dorian interrupted him.  “I saw Lily outside and was concerned for Krem.  Ah, but I see that I was in error.”

“Hey, actually, come look at this with me.”  Michael waved Dorian over and then pointed to the irritated area.  “I’ve seen all kinds of rashes, hives and shingles, but nothing that affects clan markings like this.”

Dorian palpated the area thoughtfully.  “You’re right, this doesn’t seem typical.”  He stared at the clearly visible markings, tracing one with his finger.  “Why…”  But he cut himself short and quickly withdrew his hand.

“You’re wondering why you can’t see my markings.”  Michael shot him a smile.  “Don’t worry, most of Lily’s people know.  It’s the human in me, they’re more subdued because of my mixed genetics.” 

“Oh-ho!  So this is the suave, tasty dollop of manliness that has managed to capture our precious Michael’s attention.”  Zevran reached out to run his fingers up along Michael’s arm lightly.  “You must share your secret.  All of my attempts thus far have been unsuccessful.”

Dorian swatted the elf’s hand away.  “And they will continue to be so!”

“Maferath’s flaming nutsack!”  Lily popped her head into the room.  “You guys should see this fancy ass mother-fucker walking down the hall.”

She was hardly finished with her statement when she was shoved out of the way to allow three men into the room.  They all wore the midnight black and heavy fabrics associated with the Tevinter Imperium.  Large, deep hoods and capes draped over exaggerated shoulders.  The older of the two and the obvious wealthy employer, crossed his arms in disdain. 

Dorian took a step forward to place himself in front of his patient and Michael.  “Father.”

Magister Pavus wore clothing that practically reeked of antiquated times and suffering.  His hair was unfashionably out of date but still managed to portray the status of authority.  “I tried to reason with you, but you insist on acting out like a child.  I have allowed you to indulge in his hobby long enough.”

“You have no right to be here!  This is my patient, whom I’m currently treating.  Get out!”  Dorian barked at the older man, clearly accustomed to it.

Halward sneered.  “Blood of the Maker, you’re touching that elvhen filth without gloves?  Disgusting.”

“Not everyone outside the Magisterium is rabid, only those who remain entrenched in the past fall prey to that disease.  I understand it starts by eating away at the brain matter.”  Dorian quipped glibly. 

Narrowing his eyes, Halward dropped his voice lower.  He pointed to Zevran.  “I wasn’t talking about _him_.”

Dread turned Michael’s blood to ice.  _How the fuck does he know?_

Picking up on the increased tension, Lily snapped at her employee firmly.  “Zev, to me.”

The elf leapt off the bed and hurried to Lily’s side where she quickly and protectively led him from the room. 

“You’re coming home with me, abandoning this foolish notion of mingling with those beneath you and taking up a profession befitting your heritage.”  The Magister’s tone was level and commanding. 

“The heritage of a bigoted corpse?  I should think not.”  Dorian looked at the two men at Halward’s side.   “I see that you are considering force as an option.  Typical.  When will you get it through your head that I will not be forced!?”

“Could you at least dismiss your plaything?  These matters are of no concern to it.”  The two henchmen took a few steps forward but stopped when Dorian approached his father, roaring in his face.

“Could you, for once in your life, fuck off?!  You have no right to speak to him in such a manner!”

“Do I not?  Was it not he with whom you fornicated at the Bordello the other night?”  At Dorian’s shocked expression, Halward grinned smugly.  “Did you really think I would let you run free in this shithole of a country?  I am done with you dragging the Pavus name through the mud.  Dismiss that savage or I shall do it for you!”

One of the uncouth brutes cracked his knuckles.

“You truly are the worst human known to mankind.”  Micheal stepped closer as he spoke in a normal tone, piercing through the heated back and forth of father and son.  “How can you be so blind to all that your son has accomplished, to not see how society has benefited from his genius?  Ignorant Shemlen, I challenge you.”

Fire burned in Halward’s eyes as he faced down Michael who stood his ground.  Another aspect that further angered the Magister who was clearly accustomed to having people cower at his feet.  “How. Dare. You.  Were you a man worth acknowledgment, I would challenge you for your impertinent slander.”

The man was taller and beefier than Michael, but knowing he brought hired help instilled in him that this was not a man accustomed to finishing his own fights.  Without a second thought, Michael took a swing and clocked the cocky bastard right in the jaw.

The thugs scrambled to catch their employer, Dorian stood agape in shock and Michael kept his feet firmly planted with his back ramrod straight, fists at his side and shoulders broad, ready for a counter.  _Daring_ the man to counter.

“Try and not acknowledge _that_.”  Michael spat. 

“Technically, he’s not an elf and he’s never been a slave, therefore his challenge is legitimate.”  Michael wasn’t sure how long Krem had been there, but his support was a welcomed convenience.  Although from a lower class family, Krem would still remember the proper customs from Tevinter. 

“No!”  Dorian turned on Michael and grabbed him by the shoulders.  “Don’t.  Don’t you fucking do this, it’s insane!”

Seeing the distress this caused his son, Halward called off his thugs.  “I accept.  Tomorrow evening.  Bring your own weapon.  I will text Dorian the location.”  He then turned on his son with a pointed finger.  “Dorian, you must learn there are consequences to your actions which taint the Pavus name and if killing everyone you welcome to your bed is what it takes to have you realize that, then so be it.”

The Magister turned on his heel and left with his cronies shortly behind.  It was only after he was gone that Michael realized his fingernails were digging painfully into his palms. 

“Ass.”  Krem walked up to Michael and inspected his punching hand.  “You alright?”

Swallowing hard and nodding, Michael came down slowly from his angered high.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.  Would you mind being my second?”

“Yes he would!  How can you even consider this?!”  Dorian grabbed Michael’s head and forced their eyes to lock.  Michael could feel a crack break in his heart when he saw the thin line of water lining Dorian’s eyes.  “You don’t know my father.  You have no idea the villainy that he’s capable of.  Please, don’t do this.”

“He can’t treat you like that.”  Michael leaned forward and gave Dorian a searing kiss, holding their bodies together and running a hand through his perfect hair.  “Creators, not you.  You deserve better.”

“I appreciate the chivalry but you simply can’t do this.”

“He has to.”  Krem’s voice had them remember they weren’t alone and they pulled apart slightly.  “You know the law and I’m pretty damn sure that if anyone is going to follow it to the letter, it’s going to be that ‘Vinty bastard.”

For the first time since he’d known him, Dorian was speechless. 

Before there were any further discussions, Lily joined them.  “I got Zev back safe.  Bull’s put his Chargers on high alert and I’ve got Sera and her people watching your apartment.  Dorian, I recommend that you stay with Michael until we know what your father’s intentions are, it’s easier for me to provide security for you here.”

When no one responded to her report, she glanced at them each in turn worry, lining her features.  “Oh, no.  What’s happened?”

***

The following evening Michael stood in front of his full length mirror adjusting and readjusting his leathers.  Any other night and he would have thought the outfit flattering.  Pauldrons, chest, gauntlets and shins had brilliant amber and black tortoiseshell tiles sewn in.  The shape and cut of the armour accentuated his best features.  He tested his reach and flexibly, which were fine, but his chest felt heavy.  He knew that Dorian didn’t want him to do this.  Shit, he knew that he didn’t have to, but for Dorian…anything for him.

Dorian joined his side and spoke to him through the mirror.  “I still say you’re an idiot.”

“You tried to handle things your way, I think it only fair that I try mine.”

“By resorting to brute force and archaic traditions?”  Dorian then stroked his chin and glanced upward as he pondered.  “On second thought, those are the only things my father understands.  Touché.”

“Will you at least tell me how handsome I look?  I spent a great deal of time getting this right just for you.”  Michael took a step back to allow Dorian a better view in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Of course you are handsome.  You have me at your side, how could you look anything less than ravishing?”  Dorian slicked Michael’s body with an appraising eye and a salacious grin.  “I confess that I’m quite put out you haven’t worn that for me before.”

With all the time they had spent together, Michael quickly learned when Dorian was turned on.  He reached out with both hands and jerked Dorian roughly into a series of deep, crushing kisses.  Dorian reciprocated by clutching and grasping madly at the leathers, grunting in frustration as he was unable to find purchase with the tight armour. 

Michael stalked forward, driving Dorian stumbling backward, slamming him against a wall.  When Dorian released a throaty moan, Michael slammed him again, harder. 

“So dashing.”  Dorian ran his hands over the smooth surface of the tiles and rubbed his thumbs on the tough leather.  “Leave it on.  I need you.  Now.” 

When Dorian withdrew his appreciative hands, he hastily removed his pants.  Michael found the nearby jar of Heat and slicked his hands, then freed his erection, which was met with Dorian’s delight and titillating laughter.  Dorian eagerly draped his arms over Michael’s shoulders, then pulled himself up with a jump, wrapping his legs around Michael’s waist. 

“Care to…um, demonstrate the strength of your thrusts for me?”

Michael pressed Dorian’s back hard into the wall as he worked himself into position.  All the while, his heart raced.  His breaths became hot and rapid.  “Actually lunges have more power behind them than thrusts.”

Dorian groaned and his head listed to the side as Michael’s fingers played at his entrance.  “ _Mmm_ , semantics.”

“Semantics?”  Michael pushed himself into Dorian as the man whimpered in his arms, both of their heads buried into the other’s shoulder.  While Michael waited for Dorian to adjust, he bit playfully into top of Dorian’s trapezius, then sucked brutally, ensuring a mark.  “You think it’s minor semantics between sex and the way I fuck you?”

Another provocative giggle bubbled from Dorian as he straightened his head, their eyes meeting.  Dorian squeezed his legs tighter, drawing Michael in deeper.  “I think a demonstration is in order, least your honor be called into question, _again._ ”

The tease earned the ‘Vint the enthusiasm he sought.  Michael pressed Dorian hard against the wall, pinning him there as he ploughed into to him at a relentless pace.  By now, he knew exactly how to have his cock massage across that magic bulb of nerves.  He thrust up, hating the barrier of his armour but finding some gratification in the new sounds that were ripped from Dorian’s throat.  The man was putty in his arms sooner than usual and he decided to up the ante.

Michael nibbled on Dorian’s ear, licking just below before he rasped his command.  “I want you to fucking paint my face with your cum.”

Dorian’s wall’s tightened around him and he could finally feel Dorian’s fingers digging into the leather with force.  Dorian coiled his arms firmly around Michael’s toned shoulders to take over the rhythm.  Michael took a broader stance to counter act the change, letting Dorian ride him buck wild. 

Knowing he incited this type of crazed lust every time they were together burned hot in Michael’s core, sending flames licking at his insides, heating his desire until it boiled over, spilling out into his lover.  He held Dorian down over his cock, making him take every last drop.

Michael hissed as his lips ghosted over Dorian’s neck.  “Vhenan.”

Reciprocating, the ‘Vint licked the curve of Michael’s jaw before biting a hot kiss into his jugular.  “Amatus.”

Michael’s knees finally collapsed and he fell clumsily to the floor.  Dorian landed as gracefully as a cat and had his cock in hand, ready to go without missing a beat.  Down on all fours, Michael opened his mouth wide.  Dorian’s dark hands slipped reverently through Michael’s light colored hair, drawing out a slight purr as Dorian filled the willing mouth with his member. 

It was easy to tell when Dorian was nearing his peak.  Both of his hands threaded into Michael’s hair and his hips had him plunging impossibly deep into his lover’s throat.  It made Michael feel powerful, seeing how he made this man squirm, plead, and _take_ what he needed.  It was thrilling beyond measure.

Within moments, Dorian’s orgasm came hurtling out of him.  Taking hold of himself, Dorian fisted white streams to cover Michael’s pleased face.  Once empty and hunched over, Michael took advantage of Dorian’s over sensitized state to gently hold him by the hips, pressing his thumbs against the bone.  He delicately kissed up his lover’s shaft and then lightly sucked on the tip, relished how the man quivered uncontrollably within his hands.   

Dorian panted heavy, open mouthed and spent as he looked down on Michael.  “Oh, I need a picture of this.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”  Michael snatched the mystery fabric that Dorian offered and cleaned up as best he could as Dorian dressed.  The spots on the armour refused to dry out.  Michael glanced at the wall clock.  “Shit.  We have to leave in ten minutes, this isn’t coming out.”

Cocking his head as he inspected the darkened flecks on the leather, Dorian shrugged.  “Well, I’m no fair maiden to offer you her kerchief as a token of good luck, so this will just have to do.”

Michael couldn’t help but grin at the absurd statement.  He pulled his vhenan close in a loose embrace, one hand caressing Dorian’s cheek.  “Creators Dorian, what am I to do with you?” 

Taking hold of Michael’s hand, Dorian pressed a kiss into the gloved wrist.  “Do try to not get yourself killed.  I’d have to hate you forever.”

“I can’t have that.”  Michael licked Dorian’s lower lip before consuming him.  Both men feasted in a gentle hunger, urgently conveying the depth of their concern for upcoming duel.  Eventually, their heads came to rest on each other’s shoulders as they held each other tight.  There they stayed for the last few moments of peace before a knock came at the door.

Krem let himself in.  “It’s time.”

 ***

Michael, Dorian and Krem made their way to an open field by the shore.  As rare as duels were, there was a space allocated for such arrangements which required that events take place after dusk to reduce the involvement of bystanders.  Michael watched the sun set, measuring his breaths as he mentally prepared himself.  He could hear Krem speaking with the officiant, which Halward had chosen, of course.  The setting sun painted the grass a pleasant dark green and sparkled happily over the waves.  

“Gentlemen, take your places.”  The officiant spoke haughtily with a heavy Tevene accent. 

This was the first time Michael actually looked at his opponent.  The Magister’s stature diminished significantly when he removed his superfluous hooded cape, but he was still a big bastard.  The old man had not sacrificed a modicum of Tevinter extravagance when choosing his armour.  Each piece of his black leathers was trimmed in pressed gold filigree, the buckles larger than necessary and there were gemstones worked into the cross guard of his rapier. 

It was the kind of amour one would expect a worthless aristocrat to wear but Michael wasn’t fooled.  He noticed the way the man walked, the way he held his sword, all subtle hints that let him know that this was not the Magister’s first duel.  Standing twelve paces across from each other, rapiers drawn, they waited for the sun to set low enough to not be a hindrance. 

Halward’s thugs kept their distance from Krem, which bode well if Michael didn’t win the match.  At least they would be reluctant to challenge Krem in an attempt to literally drag Dorian back kicking and screaming.  He didn’t have time to worry about that.  He needed to focus on the duel, focus on beating the piss out of this fucker.

The officiant’s voice pierced through the chilled air.  “En garde?”

_Inhale, one, two, three…_

“Prêt?” 

_Exhale, four, three, two, one…_

“Allez!”

Halward advanced as would be typical if they were fighting lines.  Head on, quick, successive attacks that had Michael in retreat, at first.  Michael gained the upper hand when he parried with graceful ease, creating a leverage point from which he was able to shift and manoeuvre away from Halward’s left side, ruining the angle of attack.  Now on the right side of the Magister’s body, he took advantage of the man’s surprise and slid his blade up along his opponent’s to have the hilts slam together.  Watching the pain rattle the old man’s bones brought a smile to his face.  He clutched the Magister’s hand in a death grip, causing the sword to fall loose.  Michael snatched it from the air before shoving his opponent in the shoulder to send him falling on his ass in muddy grass. 

Halward hit the ground but he kept his momentum to roll back onto his feet, producing a large dagger.

“ **Michael!** ”  Dorian distress was evident as he yelled across the open field.

Michael shut him out.  Easily done since he knew Krem wouldn’t let him interfere, by force if necessary.  He’d already taken a few hits, but according to the rules, no one stopped until someone yielded. 

Or died.

Although the dagger was a surprise to Dorian, Michael had expected it.  Krem warned him earlier that day and even equipped Michael with his own as well.

_Watch out, don’t let the damn thing nick you.  It’ll be poisoned knowing that elitist bastard._

Crossing both swords, Michael used them to intercept the strike and keep the dagger from reaching his body.  Anger flared in Halward’s reddening face.  Pushing the blades away, Halward lunged forward to have their shoulders crash.  Trying to take another cheap shot at Michael, the old man used the distraction to capture and twist Michael’s hand to get his sword back.  He retreated a few paces to regain his composure. 

Now, both men faced each other, pacing a circle.  Halward hunched low.  Michael waited for the attack, knowing the Magister was going to try and run him through the liver.  Instead of defending himself with the rapier, Michael pulled out the dagger Krem leant him to deflect the attack and then swung high with his sword in an attempt to slice the Magister’s head off.

After both of the attacks failed, they separated to pace in circles once more.  Without warning, Halward charged to have his sword swing down from above then, came around from the side to sneak in a stab of the dagger.  Both attacks were sloppy and obvious.  Michael countered perfectly, but he didn’t recognize Halward’s trompement until it was too late.  He had maneuverered in such a way that their bodies were but a breath away, weapons locked.  Halward didn’t try to break the guarded stance of the press for dominance, he used the opportunity to lurch forward and crash his head into Michael’s face.

“Avertissement!”  The officiant acknowledged the foul but the damage was already done.

Red exploded into Michael’s vision and his only thought was to put as much distance between him and Halward as possible.  He wasn’t sure to what extent he was injured, just that he needed to keep his left eye shut.  Anticipating Halward’s next move, he feigned right as the man charged his blind side.  Michael turned and used his dagger to catch hold of the rapier’s open guard, tossing it across the field.  Michael kept pace with Halward, preventing the man from taking up a position at his back. 

Spitting at Michael, Halward tossed the lone dagger to his dominant right hand and this time advanced on the right side, spinning away from Michael’s thrust and grabbing hold of Michael’s sword, shoving it firmly in the dirt.

Left with only daggers, they now faced each other with all pretence of a fair, clean fight long abandoned.  Halward moved faster than one would have thought for an old codger.  He tried to use his bulk to over power by forcing them into another press.  Their daggers locked once again creating a deadly ‘x’ between the two men.  Halward shoved then spun to take up a new position behind Michael.  In his pained and weakened state, Michael was unable to stop him.  With a hand on the back of the blonde’s neck and his weapon hand pulling the blades closer to Michael’s face, it appeared the Magister was ready to end the duel permanently. 

“ **Amatus!  No!** ” 

The new endearment that Dorian had only used twice, meant something to Halward and it pissed him off to the point he growled like a feral animal, spittle spraying everywhere.

Michael was thankful for the distraction and pulled hard on Halward’s dagger hand which upset the old man’s balance.  As the Magister tried to regain his footing, Michael kept hold of the arm and punched into the back of the elbow, cracking it out of joint.  The effort caused both weapons to fall to the ground.  Halward swung hard with his other arm, crushing into Michael’s windpipe.  Staggering backward, Michael tried to keep his wits about him.  He saw fists coming after him and all he could manage were defensive blocks.

Halward was getting cocky at the sight of the Michael’s retreat.  He wound up for a punishing fist to the face which gave Michael enough time to duck under and away as the momentum of the attack exposed Halward’s back.  Abandoning all etiquette, he jumped the man and captured his head in a sleeper hold. 

“Yeild!”

Halward sputtered, took a few wobbly steps, then ground out through clenched teeth, “Never”.

Michael tightened his grip and waited.  Within moments, the haughty Magister lost consciousness.  Michael waited a moment, then released the body once he was certain Halward wasn’t faking it.  The Tevinter’s own officiant declared Michael the winner.  All ceremony seen to, Michael crumbled to the ground, exhausted and desperate for rest. 

Krem was holding back his boyfriend, ensuring Dorian didn’t engage in the fight in any way that would nullify the outcome.  Seeing that a victor was claimed, Krem stepped aside and released Dorian.  The healer bolted like a loosed arrow, never slowing his stride until Michael was wrapped tight in his arms. 

“Amatus, why?  Why?”

Michael leaned against him, his musk felt like an anaesthetic, numbing every injury sustained.  His eyes felt heavy when Dorian curled his left arm up over his shoulder to cradle his head soundly against his shoulders.  Feeling Dorian’s fingers card through his hair, the way they skimmed his scalp, it was exactly what Michael needed.  He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t move his arms, but he could speak hoarsely to the ear that was near his lips.

“I love you Dorian.”

Dorian stifled a small sob, “You bloody bastard, if you ever do something that stupid again, I’ll…”

Michael didn’t hear the rest of the tirade.  His mind shut down and a grin on his face welcomed the deep sleep he would receive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if I really dorked up the fencing terminology. I gave it a stab ;)


	6. A Great Adventure (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter so I'm getting all mushy.

Dorian walked back to the apartment the following morning.  He’d left a sore and exhausted Michael in Krem’s hands.  He’d been rattled a bit from the fight, worn out to be sure.  As much as Dorian harassed him for his foolishness, a small corner of his heart loved the classic romanticism of it all.  His Amatus was quite gallant in his leathers. 

Work had been quick.  Depressing, yet not wholly unexpected.  Stepping on the elevator he rubbed at his face as the doors closed.  He felt breakfast rising again. 

“Well, that could have gone better.”

His back fell heavy against the mirrored wall, his head bounced lightly.  He actually wished it had hurt more.  Turning his head to the side, he frowned at his disheveled appearance. 

“That won’t do.”  Standing straight, he combed his hair and fixed his clothes.  The bastards could have at least let him keep his robes.  They had his name embroidered on them.  Flashing a well-practiced smile, he readied himself to deliver the news in the most suave manner possible.  It wouldn’t do for Michael’s trophy to already begin to lose its luster. 

Walking down the corridor he was lost in thought, picking and choosing his words carefully when he unexpectedly bumped into a man. 

“You watch were you’re going Magister!”  Dorian would remember that voice for as long as he lived.  A deep, rough timbre that you would want whispering naughty promises to you in bed. 

“Ah.  I see you are well recovered from your fleeting illness.”  It was all he could think to say.  It had been nearly two months since the white haired man was last at Mixie’s.

His partner pulled the irate man back by the arm.  “Easy Fenris, I’m sure it was a mistake.” 

Dorian ignored the death glare from Fenris, his excitement overpowering any good sense.  Honestly at this point, what did he have to lose?  “Fenris?  Your name is Fenris?  A-a-and you know Michael?”

Confusion had Fenris stepping back, but his frown never faltered.  “Vaguely.  He worked with my father a few years ago.”

Fenris was doing well to keep any hints of ‘elvhen’ out of the conversation, his hair carefully styled to hide his pointed ears, but Dorian didn’t care about that, he wanted something more.  Something that was making his heart pound ruthlessly in his chest.  “May I ask your father’s name?”

Offering nothing, Fenris stayed silent.  Dorian turned to the man with him who only rolled his eyes, obviously accustomed to the elf’s mannerisms.  Dorian tried to pry more from him.  “Michael doesn’t speak much of his time in Iceland and I was curious as to whom he collaborated with on the book.”

Fenris’ eyes darted down the hall towards Michael’s door than back to Dorian, considering his answer.  Dorian felt as though an eternity passed.  “Egils.  His name is Egils Fenris.”

“Ah, perfect.  I offer my humblest thanks.  Do please give my regards to Mixie.”  Dorian reached out to pat Fenris on the shoulder, thought better of it, and instead did so to his companion. 

Fleeing the awkwardness, Dorian left the two men to knock on Mixie’s door.  He strode happily to the apartment with the greatest treasure he could have possibly hoped for.  The author he worshiped, the elf who inspired him to apply for the damn program in the first place, finally had a name.  Egils Fenris.  He even had a guess as to the man’s looks.  Of all the wretched shit he had to deal with that morning, at least he had this.  A tidbit of information that somehow managed to make the famed author more of a person than a collection of inspiring ideas. 

That warm, wonderfully good feeling didn’t last long.  As he walked into the apartment, he saw Michael laid out on the floor.  Krem was kneeling on the floor with one of Michael’s legs propped up on his shoulder as he worked his fingers over Michael’s quads. 

“Am I interrupting anything?”  They were both decent and it was obvious that Krem was only helping to work out tension, but Dorian couldn’t help but feel a bit protective of his man.

“Dorian.  You’re back early.  Something happen?”  Michael winced then grunted as Krem didn’t pause in his work. 

“Nothing of significance.  I’ll tell you when you’re finished.”  Dorian went into the kitchen to work on reigning in his jealousy.  Krem wasn’t a threat, he was married, and happily from the few interactions they’d had as a group. 

Another deep moan came from the living room.

Pinching his eyes shut, Dorian felt a clenching in his chest that refused to be ignored.  Knowing his lover was only feet away, being rather intimately touched by another man had Dorian facing the reality of their relationship head on.  He cared a great deal for Michael, but he’d never said anything.  That uncertainly plagued him.  What if Michael didn’t feel the need to be monogamous?  Then a new dread cuddled up beside the old one: why would Michael attach himself singularly to someone who no longer had any prospects?

Bracing his hands on the counter, Dorian suffered through another round of pleased groans followed by, “Yes, Krem, fucking yes.  Do it just like that, damn that feels amazing.  Creators, harder!”

“Can’t count how many times I’ve said that.”  Dorian jumped as Lily unexpectedly joined him.  She set bags of Chinese takeout on the counter.  “His skills are astonishing.”

Groaning into his hand, Dorian tried to get the mental image out of his head.  “Must you?”

“Always, but for once, that’s not what I meant.  He studied to be a physical therapist, so he knows how to work muscles.”  Lily’s eyes wandered off to the side as she wet her lips.

Dorian helped to set lunch on the table then offered a hand for Michael to get off the floor.  Michael was a bit flushed but his muscles did appear to less tense and he smiled brightly for Dorian just before he rewarded him with a kiss.  “So, what happened at the hospital that you made it back so early?”

“My father has meticulous and irrevocably severed all ties with me.  I arrived at the hospital to a locked office and papers thoroughly dismissing me.  I'm wearing everything I own."  Although he delivered the news lightly, it was not received so.  Dorian had to turn away from their expressions of shock, lest he lose his resolve.  "My office has been cleared out and I have no doubt my lodgings have as well.  I was informed by the Chief of Medicine that my license had been revoked and all funding for my tenure here pulled.  I can’t apply for work _anywhere_ , not as a healer."

"Your father paid for all your things?" The question itself could have been harsh, but Krem’s tone was one of sympathy. 

"No, but he knows that in my present state that I am incapable of affording a lawyer that could beat his.  I can't fight him in this."  Dorian attempted to lighten the mood by smirking at Michael.  “It appears that you are currently intimate with a certified hobo.  The most dashing by far, but one nonetheless.” 

Lily was the only one to giggle a bit at his quip.  "Wow.  That's a punch in the dick.  What will you do now?"

Dorian leaned back in his chair and tapped a finger to his cheek in thought.  "I've heard the Madame next door treats her employees well."

"Absolutely not.”  Michael gave Lily a friendly nod.  “No offense, but I'm not sharing."

Lily absently waved her chopsticks at him to dismiss his worry.  Dorian seriously doubted there was a phrase in existence that could offend the woman. 

Michael reached out to take Dorian’s hand.  "You should stay here with me.  It’s not that big a change from what we’ve been doing."

"Tempting offer but I prefer to be self-sufficient.  Pesky pride will always win out.  There's no point being this magnificent if I can't show off to peers."  Dorian poked at his lo mein, his appetite waning. 

Michael clutched at his chest in mock pain.  "Oh the horror of being an obscure contributor to society." 

Everyone laughed heartily except Dorian.  He felt that there was an inside joke there that he was missing, then he remembered Michael’s artwork.  "Your uncredited work in _Practical Applications_ may suit you, but I know my narcissistic tendencies won’t allow me to do such a thing.  I would need my name in bold on the front."  Dorian grinned devilishly.  "Mostly I relish the thought of sending a copy to father.”

“Stay with me.  We’ll build you some new contacts here in Fereldan.  Your expertise hasn’t changed, surely we can find something that challenges you.”

“Unlikely, but I am willing to dabble in the trivial.”  He’d honestly take a job treating toe fungus if it helped take him a few steps away from being entirely destitute. 

Glancing at his lover, it was clear that Michael didn’t see him as a burden.  He was genuinely welcome here.  Perhaps things might take a turn for the better after all. 

***

A month passed and the influence of his father was still felt even this far across the border.  Accusations, which only he knew to be false, kept any health practice from touching Dorian, even for cleaning bedpans.  He poured his frustration into their living arrangements, organizing the piles of books, fixing simple meals so they weren’t entirely dependent on their neighbor.  Anything to feel as though he were contributing.

At least Michael didn’t seem to mind.  He was consistently in a pleasant mood and never worked a minute past his shift.  Dorian liked the gesture, the thought that his Amatus couldn’t wait to be back in his presence kept him in a pleasant mood.

But for how long?  How much longer before his medical accomplishments were forgotten and he became…average? 

How much longer could he go without telling Michael he cared for him? 

Each day the words were at the tip of his tongue.  Each passionate kiss, Dorian’s lips mouthed the words against his.  His fingers interlocked with Michael’s, his fingertips stamping the skin with a tattoo that no one could see, spelling endearments that couldn’t be read.  If Dorian confessed, would it drive him away?

Pushing the abhorrent thought from his mind, Dorian sat down at the internet to begin searching beyond Fereldan.  Maybe there would be something in the Anderfels, or Gibraltar.

Right on schedule, an hour later, Michael returned home.  He had the mail neatly tucked under his arm.  Dorian greeted him happily, having found a few possibilities.  He ravished the blonde’s mouth and cupped his ass firmly in a fit of new optimism.  “Welcome home, Amatus.”

“You’re in a bright spirits, as you should be.”  Michael stepped back and handed over a large package with the entire top corner covered in postage.  “I called in some favors.  I didn’t want to say anything until now in the event it didn’t work out.  I hope you don’t mind.”

The package tore open with some difficulty which caused the contents to spill out onto the table.  A passport, visa, letters from the Elvhen Council with the gold foil seal, and a single note from the Circle of Dalish Healers.  After reading it twice, Dorian fell heavily into his seat.

“What is this?”

“It should be an invitation.”  Michael tilted his head and came around the table to read for himself.

“Not any invitation.  It has been requested that I travel to Iceland and not only engage in research in the cardiovascular health of elves over their life time, but to actually work with the renowned author himself, Egils Fenris.”

“Egils?  He signed the letter?”  Michael was confused and took the letter to read for himself.

“I happened upon the man that visits Mixie down the hall.  When I heard him being called by his last name, I pieced it all together.”

Mystery solved, Michael lightly tossed the letter onto the table.  “Well, I suppose it’s no longer a secret, considering you’ll meet him soon enough.” 

“I’m not sure that I will.”  Dorian set the letter down and pushed all of the paperwork towards Michael.  His greatest dream was at his fingertips and yet it felt hallow.  “I can’t accept charity.”

“Charity?  What are you talking about?  Do you really think they would offer this invitation if you weren’t exceptional?”  Michael ran his fingers through his hair.  “Look, I know you have your pride and can be stubborn, but please recognize that this is not a handout.  The only thing that I had to call in favors for was to get them to see past your heritage as a Tevinter and honestly the public way that your father has cut ties with you actually helped.”

Dorian considered how this decision would impact his life.  “What about you?  Am I to abandon you here?”

“Not exactly.  I still have family there and can visit as often as I please.”

Laughing exuberantly, Dorian leaned back in his chair.  “How charmingly convenient for you.  Elvhen when you wish, human when it suits you.”  He looked back down at the table.  “I’m uncertain.  Earlier today I found some opportunities in the Anderfels that might be worth exploring, it’s not too far…”

Michael lightly shoved Dorian by the shoulder.  “Oh come on.  This is Iceland!  How many of your countrymen can even claim to have seen it from the sea, much less walked on its shores?  What was it you said a month ago?  That you’d want to publish a book and send it to your father?  Imagine his face when he discovers who you worked with and where you were.”

“I must admit, that idea sounds absolutely decadent.  So maliciously scandalous that it’s almost too good to pass up.”

“What do you mean ‘almost’.  Dorian you can’t pass this up.”  Michael was becoming heated, which only pushed Dorian.

Standing aggressively, Dorain planted his hands loudly on the table.  “I can’t lose you!”  His head dipped to his chest, only his eyes attempted to look up.  “I’ve grown too fond of you to walk away, to do anything that might change us.”

“There is nothing to worry about.  I’ll talk to the hospital, I’ve got some leave to burn and I’ll go with you for the first few days.  I can help you get settled in, show you the sights, teach you to ride a halla.”  Michael chuckled, his smile teasing perfectly.  “I’ll even take you to the penis museum.  C’mon, this should be the easiest decision you could possibly make.”

Iceland.  It had been a fantasy for so long that this moment didn’t seem real.  Dorian looked at Michael in his pale blue scrubs, blonde hair slightly disheveled.  A powerful and unfamiliar tug at his heart caused Dorian to be swept up in a flash of fear.  “Don’t leave me.  Don’t send me away.”

“Vhenan…”

Dorian couldn’t bear to hear the dreaded words. 

 _I can’t.  It’s too soon.  This isn’t what I wanted._  

Blood pounding like a drum in his ears, he surged forward, digging his fingers into Michael’s hair as he conquered his mouth.  Hot, breathy kisses exploded from him.  It was only when he had to pause for a deep breath that he spilled his heart into his lover’s mouth.  “I love you.” 

As soon as he released his confession, Dorian felt as if he were released from a tether.  His embrace became more urgent, possessive.  Sliding from his back to his hips, Dorian’s hands moved up Michael’s torso, pushing the hideous uniform top up and off. 

Brushing his lips from the shoulder to the center of his throat, he continued to mumble, “I love you.  I need you.  I’m yours.”

Michael swallowed thickly and when Dorian licked up the side of his neck to nip on his ear.  The blonde’s lids fluttered as Dorian seduced him. 

Michael couldn’t think straight and reverted to Elvhen.  “Vhenan, ar lath ma.” 

Gripping Michael’s ribs, Dorian’s mouth trailed lower to lavish praise all over the pert chest.  With a thumb rubbing and teasing a nipple, Dorian took the other in his mouth.  He sucked, flicking his tongue over the erect nub.  The rhythm changed as new, incoherent words spilled from Michael.

“ _Garas. Garas, aman na'mis.  Neran ihn bre’palas, i vallasan bredhas i’ma’da’vin._ ”

Dropping to one knee, Dorian quickly removed the remainder of Michael’s scrubs as the man kicked his shoes off.  Dorian firmly planted his hands on Michael’s toned buttocks.  He mouthed and gummed at that sensitive tissue beneath the sac that he knew wound the man up.  He could hear it.  The way Michael’s breathing caught, how he scarcely exhaled before quickly sucking in air desperately.  Dorian could feel himself grow harder at the knowledge his touch caused his lover’s body to forget how to function. 

“I’ll go with you.”

“Say it again.”  With his body pumped full of lust and his heart desperate to be satisfied, Dorian wrapped his arms around Michael’s legs, propping both of them over his shoulders and stood suddenly.  Michael slid up the wall easily, his shocked fingers dug into Dorian’s broad shoulders.  “Promise me.”

Michael could only manage to bend forward enough to place a kiss in the top of Dorian’s hair.  His voice was muffled by the swath of silky hair.  “I swear, I will never leave you.”  Tilting his head back, it banged against on the wall.  “Just don’t stop, I’ll do anything.”

With a hearty chuckle and a joyous heart, Dorian lowered Michael’s rear just enough that he could get the man’s dripping cock in his mouth.  He could feel Michael’s muscles clench in his hands while his tongue played tricks up and down the glorious shaft.  Dorian knew that he would be sore from this, but he didn’t care.  Using his arms, he raised and lowered his lover to save his neck. 

Pushing the warm cock in his mouth, Dorian sucked hard, his cheeks hallowing out.  He intentionally tried to be as noisy as possible, slurping and humming unreservedly.  Michael confessed a while ago that he enjoyed the exhibitionism of it.  Dorian wondered if it had anything to do with the public sex involved with the Bonding Rituals.  The cause behind the deep seeded turn-on wasn’t really a problem for Dorian.  He loved to put on a good show. 

As thrilling as it was for Dorian, it must have been overpowering for Michael.  Dorian had to take a knee when the man began bucking, seeking a more forceful penetration.  The lower center of gravity made it easier for Dorian to push and pull, giving Michael what his body craved.  Lip covered teeth cinched down on the throbbing erection, gliding effortlessly with the help of the thicker saliva from the far back of his throat. 

Michael’s words spilled into a fevered pitch.  “ _Ame nar, ame nar_.”

Dorian nearly gagged at the force with which Michael came.  He didn’t mind, the elvhen-blooded Adonis tasted somewhat like candy.  Pop-rocks perhaps?  Not that Dorian would ever eat such a lower tier candy. 

It was a good thing that Dorian had already sunk to his knees since Michael turned completely boneless within his arms.  He gently guided the spent man to sit on the floor, then ran his fingers through the blonde hair before pressing their lips together tenderly. 

“It’s probably not fair of me to stoop to using sex as blackmail, but I am a man who will not be denied.  Once I have what I want, I won’t let go.”

“Neither will I.  It’s just…you never said anything.”  Another sweat tainted kiss.  “I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Mmm, you taste…like you’re mine.”  Dorian couldn’t have smiled larger if he tried. 

“You understood what I said earlier? _Ame nar?”_

Dorian nuzzled into Michael’s neck as he ran his hand up and down his chest, fingers dancing over the ridges of muscle.  “No, but I could do with more.  I like when you speak in tongues.”

“ _Ame nar_ – I am yours.”

Pulling his head away to gaze into his lover’s eyes, Dorian let his hand drift lower to test the status of Michael’s stamina.  His voice was low and husky.  _He_ certainly wasn’t finished.  “And before that?”

Chuckling, Michael held Dorian close as he whispered into his curious ears.  “Come to me, I shall sheathe your blade.”  Michael’s hands found its way to Dorian’s breeches and blindly began to undo his belt buckle.  “I like it when you fuck me deep and paint my insides with your cum.”

“ _That_ is a plan I will agree to immediately.”  Dorian stood, his pants crumpling to his ankles, then he offered Michael a hand.  His erection proudly taunting as it swayed gently.  “Why don’t we make a hasty retreat to more comfortable arrangements?”

***

The next two weeks were a flurry of activity for both men.  Dorian ensured all of his paperwork was in order, purchasing books online to supplement Michael’s collection.  Michael spent his time wrapping up loose ends at the hospital. 

The plane ride over the ocean was nothing short of magical for Dorian.  At first he attempted to hide his excitement under a calm reserve, but Michael had insisted he take the window seat.  When the continent came into view, all pretense was abandoned.  With fingers pressed to the glass, he pointed out every ‘other-worldly’ element that came into view, asking Michael a thousand questions. 

Michael took a special enjoyment in watching Dorian’s enthusiasm.  In the beginning he had held some reservations about recommending Dorian for the position, but seeing him now, he knew there was no one in the world who would pour himself so fully into the endeavor.  Having watched Dorian study late into the night to prepare for his first meeting with Egils, Michael felt a flutter of anticipation.  He wasn’t sure how Dorian would truly react when he did finally meet the famed author, but hopefully, he wouldn’t be too angry with Michael. 

Dorian had managed to compose himself gracefully by the time the plan landed.  A staffer from the Circle of Dalish Healers met them on the tarmac.  She loaded the few bits of luggage they brought, which sadly, was everything that Dorian owned.  Most of Michael’s belongings would arrive via mail.  Fen’ghil’lan turned out to be their driver as well and at Michael’s instruction, took them on a window tour of the local area. 

They drove by lava fields and rivers with drifting icebergs.  There was large expansive ranch land with wandering sheep.  Dorian called the car to a stop when they came across a halla ranch.  Fen’ghil’lan, or Fen as she insisted to be called, hid a small giggle at the way Dorian charged the fence to get a closer look at the highly protected animals.  None of its species was to be found outside of Iceland. 

The rancher noticed the group loitering at the fence line, it was easy enough, considering how wide open the plains were.  Michael and the rancher exchanged words easily in Elvhan, which soon had the older man coaxing Dorian to feed one of the halla.  To everyone’s playful amusement, Dorian was more skittish of the majestic animal than a mouse in a room full of cats.  With Michael’s aid and encouraging words from the rancher, Dorian finally succeeded in feeding the snow white creature an apple and patting the downy soft fur around its neck.  Once the animal deemed Dorian to be harmless, he was able to trace his finger up the twisting, winding ivory antlers.  Dorian knew he’d never be able to describe the experience to another person for as long as he lived. 

Back in the car, Dorian tried to tease Michael a bit.  “I take it that you know everyone being as this is a rather small community.”

“No.  I’ve never met that man in my life.”

The statement took Dorian completely off guard.  “But, the way he treated us, the way you spoke, it seemed as though you two had known each other for years.”

Michael dismissed the perceived oddity with a shrug of his shoulders.  “People here are different.  Open.  I doubt you’ll run across anyone who you’d deem less than ‘friendly’”

Michael’s statement continued to ring true after Fen dropped them off in the city center for shopping.  The influence of aravels was seen in the architecture of all the buildings.  The rooflines were sweeping triangles, like kites floating in the wind, trimmed with gold.  All of the streets were designed to be wide, keeping all buildings spaced a part.  Even though there was plenty of space, there were no vehicles in the streets.  Everyone walked, greeted and chatted.  The social interaction was more intense than even a Magister could stomach, but Dorian loved every moment. 

Michael ensured that all conversations were in common for Dorian’s benefit.  After about an hour of mostly window shopping, Michael noticed that Dorian was taking a chill but refusing to complain, knowing it might end the trip early.  Tucking his hand into Dorian’s elbow, Michael dragged him into a store.  Inside, they met a family of weavers who sold handmade sweaters.  One of ladies’ brother-in-law dyed the wool which was harvested from a ranch tended to by the mother’s cousin.  At first Dorian begrudgingly wore the decidedly ‘unfashionable’ garment of emerald green and black.  By the end of the day, he convinced Michael to go back to the same shop for five more, declaring that their warmth and softness vastly overshadowed any shortcomings that they might have in terms of being en vogue fashion wise.

A short taxi ride brought them to a wooden cottage on the outskirts of town.  It was comparable in size to Michael’s apartment in Fereldan.  The kitchen was open to the living and dining area.  A wall of widows over looked rolling hills with small, snowcapped mountains beyond.  Another striking similarity to Michael’s apartment was the reliance on candles for lighting. 

Although it was nine in the evening, the sun still hung in the sky.  With the continent so far north, the summers there had only about three or four hours of darkness.  Dorian walked out onto the deck.  His eyes drank in the sweeping vista as he took in a deep breath.  He already felt like a conqueror striking his flag into virgin soil.  The first Tevinter to ever partner fully with the Dalish.  Nothing could top this moment in his life.

“Do you like it?”  Michael joined him, hands hidden behind his back.

“It’s rather cozy.”  Dorian nodded his head toward the covered hot tub in the corner.  “At least there are some amenities I look forward to using.” 

“You didn’t really expect that there would be hotels did you?” 

His interest piqued, Dorian craned his neck to try and see behind Michael’s back.  “You have something for me?  Is it in a bottle?  Can it be shared?”

Michael laughed at Dorian’s wild guesses as he backed away.  “You’re incorrigible.  What makes you think this is for you?”

“I am nothing shy of divine and like all gods, should be lavished with gifts constantly.  Preferably expensive ones.” 

When Dorian tried to reach both hands around the evasive elf, he only succeeded in crushing their bodies together which Michael took full advantage of by kissing Dorian heartily.  Dorian relaxed into the kiss, returning the gentle caress with a lapping tongue that probed, seeking the sweet taste he had grown to adore.

As soon as he noticed Michael’s tension ease, he snatched the object from his hands and danced victoriously across the deck.  Michael had given up the fight, his fingers lingering on his lips, savoring the remnants of the sneak attack. 

Michael watched with a confident grin as Dorian tore through the brown paper wrapping.  “I figured since your father took everything, that I should get you a new copy of _Practical Applications_.  It’s signed by the author.”

At the news, Dorian quickly opened the cover to reveal a tidy scrawl whose large letters used all of the blank space on the title page.

_For Dorian Pavus,_

_The love of my life, may you enjoy this while we write our own book together._

_Vestra Amatus,_

_Michael Crane Fenris_

At first Dorian was confused, then all he could think about was the name.  He kept staring at it as if it would magically change.  Gapping like a fish out of water, he looked from the book to Michael, then back to the book.  It was impossible.

“You.”  Closing the book, Dorian used it to point accusingly to Michael.  “It was you all this time?  What about that man’s father, Egils?”

“He did help with some sections, but like many other healers who contributed, he wished to remain nameless.  Fenris is a common last name in Iceland, and with about three of us with that name having worked on it, I chose ‘The Real Fenris’ as my nom de plume. It was a joke of sorts.”

“You’re The Real Fenris?  You - you’re The Real Fenris?”  Michael nodded and his smile grew each time Dorian said it, astounded every time.  Unable to control his explosion of emotion, Dorian snatched Michael up in a bruising hug.  “You’re The Real Fenris!”

“Yes, Vhenan.”  Michael cradled Dorian’s head, his fingers threading through his hair.  Dorian held him for a short time before shoving off and punching him in the shoulder. 

“You bloody bastard!  How could you keep this from me?”  He made to hit Michael with the book, but then thought better of abusing it in such a manner.  “You are fortunate that I treasure _this_ above my desire for vengeance.”

“I think it’s an even trade for the whole blackmailing bit.”

“It’s obvious now that you would have come anyway.”

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you still did it.”

Dorian huffed a sigh.  “Fine, have it your way.  I’ll simply have to get back at you in some other manner.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”  Michael slowly approached Dorian, hoping that Dorian wouldn’t push him away.  “Although I do feel safer knowing that Lily’s ‘gift box’ won’t arrive for another two weeks.”

Setting his book down, Dorian began to work Michael out of his clothes.  “You may think you’re safe from my Tevinter tastes, but I can be rather creative when pressed.”  He tugged at the waistband, pulled them closer to the hot tub.  “Join me?”

***

Another week in the country had them meeting the members of the Council, many taking great amusement in the fact that Dorian hadn’t a clue as to Michael’s true identity until they were in country, which actually lent him more credit.  He seemed even less of an opportunist, especially when Michael didn’t shy away about their relationship. 

Dorian eventually met with Egils who was probably the most amused by Dorian and Michael’s romance story.  The older man was very open minded about humans and quickly dismissed Droian’s background as a Tevinter.  His blasé approach to social order endeared the sweet man to Dorian who felt as if he could speak to him about anything.

So he did.

***

Three days later Dorian dragged Michael from their chalet (Dorian refused to call it a cottage) and into a waiting taxi.  Blindfolded Michael couldn’t see where he was going but he knew the island well and grew extraordinarily suspicious at the location they were headed to, especially considering the late hour of the night.

“Dorian, are you certain you know where we’re going?”

Dorian chastised Michael by tapping him on the shoulder with the length of rope he held in his hands.  “Shush, Amatus or you’ll ruin it.”

At their destination, Dorian came around the car to open the door for Michael and take his hand to guide the blind man to a predetermined spot.  The smell of the area accosted Michaels’ senses and actual giddiness bubbled high in his chest.  When Dorian removed the blindfold, the setting was just as Michael had anticipated.

Tall trees with thin trunks and umbrella like canopies dotted the landscape.  Calf high grass mingled with moss to cover the ground, wild flowers were sprinkled throughout but the woods was completely devoid of bushes.  The sun dipped low in the sky giving the Icelandic forest a golden hue that made it seem more like a painting from the imagination rather than an actual place.  Other couples were spread throughout, distinct features were indiscernible, but there was no mistaking that they were not alone.

“Dorian, what are we doing here?”

“I spoke with Egils the other day and he offered his assistance to ensure I didn’t muddle this up with my Tevinter-ness.”  Dorian presented a rope that already had two small noose like knots tied into it.  It was made of skillfully braided halla hair that was surprisingly soft.  “I don’t know precisely what I’m doing, but I know what I want, what I intend.  It is my desire, to live by your side, to share all that life has to offer, with you.”

Michael slipped a loop of the rope over Dorian’s left wrist, the other over his own as he took hold of Dorian’s hand.  “Ara’isha, I have found in you a true companion, a love I never thought I would find.  May we forge the journey ahead hand in hand, for as long as our love shall last.”

Recognizing the final words as part of the elvhen bonding vows, Dorian wanted to ensure that his intentions were equally as clear.  “Amatus, I am yours, for as long as our love shall last.”

He had been right, Dorian thought.  The words weren’t pessimistic nor descriptive of a fleeting fancy.  They were a testament to endurance, a commitment to encourage and preserve.  Following Michael’s lead, he pulled on the loose end of the rope to tighten the loop around Michael’s wrist.  As they stood, hands bound, features blurring in the fading light.  Michael broke from the trance first as he used his free hand to cup Dorian’s neck and bring him in for a warm, adoring kiss.  Unrushed and filled with excited possession, their lips caressed and tasted those of ‘husband’ for the first time. 

Michael began to undress Dorian with lazy fingers, watching his face more so than the tempting flesh his hands revealed.  Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in the atmosphere.  Michael could tell from his quickened breathing that Dorian was a bit apprehensive about the ritual.

“We can go home if you like.”

Quickly taking hold of Michael’s shirt and working the buttons loose, Dorian cemented his resolve.  “No.  You deserve this and besides, I like the idea of making love to you all night.”

Michael laughed while shucking his shirt off.  “The whole three hours we’ll have?”

Guiding them to the ground, Dorian began to lay on his back, but Michael shock his head and assumed the position.  “You’ll want to be on top this time.  Take in the view.”

Remembering his instructions, Dorian finished removing his clothes before he uncorked the jar of Heat for his lover.  Coating his hands, he placed them first on Michael’s chest, who sucked in a lusty breath.  The clan markings ignited.  Dorian’s hands washed over every inch of skin.  He took delight in the feel of willing flesh that arched, bucked and trembled under his fingers. 

His own cock was more impatient than usual.  The night air was filled with the cascading sounds of others being equally pleasured.  Moans and purrs overlapped, cut in and out to create a backdrop of white noise comparable to crickets chirping at night.  Still, knowing they were in the open wilderness amidst nearly the whole clan having sex publicly made Dorian’s cock twitch with desperate need. 

The moment Dorian paused in his massage, Michael forced his eyes open and gestured with his hand, his words coming in heavy pants.  “Come…climb…on top.”

Michael was thankful that Dorian had planned well in advance as he saw the man reach back behind and removed a plug that had primed him for this moment.  Straddling his lover, a splayed hand on his chest, Dorian slowly impaled himself on the velvety steel of Michael’s cock.  Michael never ceased to feel the rush, the surge of lust that overpowered him every time they had sex.

His cock pressed into Dorian’s hot tightness, enveloping him in soft walls that pulsed at Dorian’s will.  By now the sun had set but the woods were aglow with the mingling of elven flesh.  The dull blue-tinged light silhouetted Dorian’s exquisite physique.  Lean firm lines, powerful thighs raising and lowering the Tevinter’s perfect body.  With each full stroke, Dorian relaxed further into his role.  His eyes fluttered shut, the grip on Michael’s chest loosened, incoherent Tevene came rambling from his full lips.  Overcome by their gentle lovemaking, Dorian’s hands reached up to pull at his own hair, his powerful legs quickening the pace.    Michael couldn’t take it anymore and dug his hands into Dorian’s waist so he could fuck up into him.

Dorian had relished in the build, the foreplay of slow sex until his body’s demands became all consuming.  He tried to calm his lust by tugging at his hair, but it only caused Michael to drive into him with greater force.  Submitting to the inevitable, he surrendered his body to his husband.  The word still sounded strange and new on his mind’s tongue. 

He opened his eyes with the intent of watching his Amatus come, but he was struck with awe as he took in the view of the forest.  Lyrium lined bodies were scattered everywhere, any position imaginable was being used and instead of it having the voyeuristic feel of being at an orgy, Dorian found the sight to be soothing.  There was no shame, no embarrassment. 

“Dorian.”  Michael’s voice tore him from his admiration.  “Hand me the second jar.”

This object hadn’t been explained to him.  Egils insisted he bring it and only said that Michael would know how to use it. 

“Lay back, take deep breaths.”  They awkwardly repositioned to keep their bond.  Michael poured the gooey paste into the palm of his hand then dipped his finger into it, using the substance to sketch out a simple design across Dorian’s pecs.  “Now, you do me.”

Dorian dipped his finger in the offered palm, “What do I draw?”

“Anything you wish to mark me.”

The only thing that came to mind were the twisted snakes of his family crest.  He abstractly sketched the shape over Michael’s pecs, keeping it simple.  Task complete, Michael lowered himself on top of Dorian, pressing their skin together, but careful to not smudge the paste.

“Don’t move.”  Dorian heeded his instructions and Michael thrust into his husband.  It was magnificent, he could feel the lyrium working its magic.  He was certain Dorian could feel it too as he fought his body’s natural reaction to writhe in its attempted to ride the pleasure Michael delivered.  Harder.  Deeper.  Michael chased his climax while feasting on Dorian’s mouth.

“ _Ame nar, ame nar._ ”

“Take me, claim me.  Make me yours.”

Whether Dorian fully understood what he said or not, it was Michael’s undoing.  His marking flared brighter than ever, sparking like a static shock between them.  Dorian winced in pain, but soon fell into feral moans as he felt Michael juttering hard in him, filling him with his thick seed.  He felt a dam bust within him as the roaring heat within him exploded forth, slicking up the space between their bodies. 

All strength lost, they lay frozen, still connected as they searched for their breaths with labored pants.  The lingering waves of their orgasms slowly rolled through them.  Eventually, Michael collapsed to Dorian’s side.

“You alright?”

“A bit dizzy.  Tingly.”  Dorian swabbed his tongue around his mouth.  “I think I know what green tastes like now.”

“That’s normal.  Here, look at this.”  Michael smeared some of the Heat over Droian’s chest to reveal the faintly glowing pattern he etched moment before.  “It’ll only last about a year, so it’s not permanent.  I’m certain you’d hate me for life if it were.”

“You mean we’ll have to come back next year?”  Dorian graced the length of Michael’s ear with tip of his tongue.  “Mmm, and every year after.  I could become accustomed to your heathen traditions.”

Michael chuckled then moved to wedge his head in the crook of Dorian’s shoulder, but he was stopped when Dorian cupped his jaw.

“I love you Amatus.” 

“I love you too, Ara’isha.”

As Dorian’s sex soaked body and heart bursting with affection drifted off to sleep, his last thought was, _nothing will surpass this moment._ 

Over the years, Dorian found he repeated this phrase frequently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. Are you telling me that this was just a Fenrian fic the whole time?!?!
> 
> Yes, yes it was.
> 
> All elvhen comes from [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061)


End file.
